Quotes About Emotion

O, the red rose may be fair, And the lily statelier; But my shamrock, one in three Takes the very heart of me!

Expectation has been called "the root of all heartache

Grief does not change you. It reveals you. JOHN GREEN

Memory is a slippery thing. When something terrible happens to you, like the loss of someone you love...memory can turn into a soft blanket that hides you from the loss.

Optimism is wide-open in contrast to pessimism's closed heart.

It's clear that love is the container in which broken hearts are rebuilt.

I previously had in my head but not in my heart—and I will stay with this sadness as best I can.

Even if I were half dead, drugged to the gills, deaf, dumb, and blind, I would know you were here. How can you expect me to rest when you arouse such madness in me?

Adieu the clang of war's alarms! To other deeds my soul is strung, And sweeter notes shall now be sung; My harp shall all its powers reveal, To tell the tale my heart must feel; Love, Love alone, my lyre shall claim, In songs of bliss and sighs of flame.

Grief is healing, so grieve. But regret is poison. No looking back.

moment." Ashton rose from his chair.

she was never, I felt, truly emotionally warm towards anyone

What I wouldn't give to share one more morning with my dad.

For one final, exquisitely tender instant they clung to each other. Love, deep and bittersweet in this moment of truth, arced between them. Then there were hands, pushing them apart, drawing Niall away. "Yer pardon, m'lord," came an anxious voice. "It's time. It's women's work now. Step aside.

The image is dead! Long live the sensation.

I thought at times that poetry might be an elegant way of screaming.

Scent memory is incredibly personal; a very private experience.

He didn't know what it was like to live between memory and regret

There is not one part of me that won't shrink and die without you. There is not one moment when I will not regret the very air I breathe. I am inadequate, a complete failure in the very task of loving and yet I love you. I love you. Badly. Stupidly. As clumsily and as greedily and as hopelessly as a child. And I would not, for all the world, have you believe otherwise. I am broken.

The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking, The night's long hours still find me thinking, Of thee, thee, only thee.' Huge

Was any wound more painful than the one no one else could see?

They never got over it. They had to harden their hearts so they wouldn't keep breaking.

What seems to me the highest and most difficult achievement of art is not to make us laugh or cry, not to arouse our lust or rage, but to do what nature does — to set us dreaming," said Gustave Flaubert.

the heart shaped bullet