Quotes About Emotion

She looked at his young face, so full of concern and tenderness; and she remembered why she had run away from everyone else and sought solitude here. She yearned to kiss him, and she saw the answering longing in his eyes. Every fiber of her body told her to throw herself into his arms, but she knew what she had to do. She wanted to say, I love you like a thunderstorm, like a lion, like a helpless rage; but instead she said: "I think I'm going to marry Alfred.

People think love is an emotion. Love is good sense.

I knew from the beginning it was hopeless, but it's possible to love without hope.

Brides and babies and strong dark men and intellectual and sensual women and the prospect of wide-open spaces to populate with humanity had always made her weak at the knees.

I love you, but I hate your overeating" doesn't help a marriage. It's not helpful because hatred is a powerful emotion (a posture, really) that is not easy to wield or maintain carefully. Hatred is more a bludgeon than a scalpel. Our ability to distinguish sin from sinner, especially in others, is so limited, so vulnerable to our own unexamined subjectivity.

Iubirea ta r?sun? ca o org? în mine, Secretele mele se afl? în palma ta deschis?, Întreaga mea fiin?? suspin? ca o harf? obosit? Sub atingerea ta. Nu suntem oare, noi, tu È™i eu, un singur suflet? Ne înf??i??m, ne ascundem tu în mine È™i eu în tine. Aceasta este esenÈ›a iubirii mele pentru tine: Nici pentru mine, nici pentru tine nu exist? Tu, ci Eu.

These are only words, not incisions or shocks, so their violence may be harder to see...a man's wrist lifts as he pours water from a pitcher, making it seem as if water, wrist, world, exist so this angle can be. A parallelogram of moonlight reads the bumps on his back as he sleeps in my arms. When I fix on these images, I know that to transform the desire they embody into loathing would be a violence as sure as a knife across a painting

Music and language are a vital element. We, as actors and directors, offer it to people who want to experience it. Sometimes the actual meaning is less important than the words themselves.

A feeling is not a fact.

Fires Burn in my heart. No smoke rises. No one knows.

Japanese poetry does what poetry does everywhere: it intensifies and exalts experience.

Give me your mouth. Your grace is as beautiful as sleep. You move against me like a wave That moves in sleep. Your body spreads across my brain Like a bird filled summer; Not like a body, not like a separate thing. But like a nimbus that hovers Over every other thing in all the world — Kenneth Rexroth, from " When We with Sappho," The Phoenix and the Tortoise (New Directions, 1944)

Your body spreads across my brain Like a bird filled summer; Not like a body, not like a separate thing, But like a nimbus that hovers Over every other thing in all the world. from "When We with Sappho,

At its best drama delightfully informs.. This may be a paraphrase but I think it captures the essence of what he said; provided he did say it and I'm not imagining things.

What is music anyway? It's a form of communication, and that's why I play the kind of music that I think - that I hope - can communicate with people.

I mean, what is music anyway? It's a form of communication - at least for me it is. And that's why I play the kind of music that I think - that I hope - can communicate with people.

Görünürde bir müzisyen iyi çalman?n peÅŸindedir ama asl?nda neyin peÅŸindedir? Ä°ster övgü olsun ister yakar?, her ÅŸark? sevgiliye daha çok baÄŸlanmak içindir. ... Çünkü insan neye özlem duyduÄŸunu bilmese de özlem hâlâ varl???n? sürdürüyor.

I don't want to play the way Monk played, I want to feel the way Monk felt when he played.

I want to do the unspeakable to you baby then speak about it

You are still in love with her. No. But I think I'm in love a little with the memory of her.

FATBACK'S DEAD" The words on the slip of paper struck me like a blow. "Fatback's dead." It was not just the news itself, though the words cut deep. It was the very fact of the note, stuck on my windshield on the Red Lake Indian Reservation in northern Minnesota

Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller what there is. LOVE.

Art does not have to be dull, to be effective; the artist does not have to be a bore, to be real.

Love is spiritual. It's about self-sacrifice and commitment. And discipline. You cannot have true love without discipline.