Quotes About Emotion

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but i'm too tough for him

She sighed. Ignatius, do you know what the opposite of love is? Hate, I said. Despair, Sister said. Despair is the opposite of love.

Englishmen rarely cry, except under the pressure of the acutest grief; whereas in some parts of the Continent the men shed tears much more readily and freely.

I have described, in the second chapter, the gait and appearance of a dog when cheerful, and the marked antithesis presented by the same animal when dejected and disappointed, with his head, ears, body, tail, and chops drooping, and eyes dull.

This is really life, this is doing something in the world, and in the presence of it you can see why the creators of it regard your world, which seemed to you so important, the world whose business is the evolution and expression of thought and emotion, as insignificant.

In art and literature we require not only an expression of the facts in nature and in human life, but of feeling, thought, emotion. There must be an appeal to the universal in the race.

As to me, so long as I have the strength, I shall battle against Melancholy. I am not philosopher enough to reason it away, so I'll be content with singing it off.

Nothing changes what already happened. It will always have happened. You either let it break you down or you don't.

Remembering doesn't change anything—it will always have happened. But forgetting won't erase it either.

Lola's only nugget of wisdom to her little daughters was Never cry, never ever.

The father let his rifle down and stood its butt against the porch boards. The boy, though, kept alert. There was a good deal of killer about him, and it was why he still lived. The last four years had made a whole generation of young boys -- who ought to have been going to school and learning a trade and thrilling deep in their bones just to dance with a girl and peck her on the cheek -- into slit-eyed killers with no more tell of emotion than an old riverboat faro gambler.

The flame of urgent coupling burned hottest against the woman, no matter how romantic and high and heartsick the anguish of the man might be pitched in retrospect.

I am sentimentally disposed to harmony but organically incapable of tune.

Each man kills the thing he loves. The coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but if you want to hurt someone...way down deep, use words.

Love has its own communication. It's the language of the heart, while it has never been transcribed, has no alphabet, and can't be heard or spoken by voice, it is used by every human on the planet. It is written on our souls, scripted by the finger of God, and we can hear, understand, and speak it with perfection long before we open our eyes for the first time.

Forgiveness is a tough thing. Both in the offering…and the accepting.

loving somebody gets better the more you do it.

Isn't God the one who urges us to Make a joyful noise unto the Lord? Why do we always think that means singing? Seems to me the most obvious joyful sound on earth is laughter... I've seen folks quote verses like Rejoice in the Lord always while their faces look like they just buried a rich uncle who willed everything to his pregnant guinea pig. Something is missing.

A young woman sang a solo in front of a large audience. Her vocal technique was splendid, her intonation excellent, her range significant. Coincidentally, the man who had written the piece of music she sang was sitting in the audience. When the young woman finished, the person sitting beside the composer leaned over and said, "Well, what do you think of her?" Softly the composer responded, "She will be really great when something happens to break her heart.

A mother's love— Fuck love, Amber snarls, she wants power.

Emma has switched from sanguine to sanguinary in a matter of seconds

mother's eyes widen

O. A. Manning's poetry