Quotes About Emotion

he didn't needs words or even want them because he knew how they could lie, could heat your blood and disappear.

Why not? I can be miserable if I want to. You don't need to try and make it go away. It shouldn't go away. Its just as sad as it ought to be and I'm not going to hide from what's true just because it hurts.

You revel in the smoke that the words send up.

He fell for an eighteen-year old girl with one of those deepdown spooky loves that made him so sad and happy he shot her just to keep the feeling going.

Not even trying, he had become the kind of man who could walk into a house and make the women cry. Because with him, in his presence, they could. There was something blessed in his manner. Women saw him and wanted to weep—to tell him that their chest hurt and their knees did too. Strong women and wise saw him and told him things they only told each other:

And wouldn't you know he'd be a singing man.

Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, stupid people love stupidly, weak people love weakly . . .

For the mouths of her children quickly forgot the taste of her nipples, and years ago they had begun to look past her face into the nearest stretch of sky.

And the lives of these old black women were synthesized in their eyes- a puree of tragedy and humor, wickedness and serenity, truth and fantasy.

Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly, but the love of a free man is never safe.

Let your face speak what's in your heart.

When there is pain, there are no words. All pain is the same.

For a used-to-be-slave woman to love anything that much was dangerous, especially if it was her children she had settled on to love. The best thing, he knew, was to love just a little bit; everything, just a little bit, so when they broke its back, or shoved it in a croaker sack, well, maybe you'd have a little love left over for the next one.

Whatever's burning in me is mine

Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly, but the love of a free man is never safe. There

L'amore non è mai migliore di chi ama. I malvagi amano con malvagità, i violenti con violenza, i deboli con debolezza e gli stupidi in modo stupido, ma l'amore di un uomo libero non è mai sicuro. on c'è dono per la persona amata. Solo chi ama possiede il suo dono d'amore. Chi è amato viene reciso, neutralizzato, congelato nello sguardo dell'occhio interiore di chi ama.

Lying on a ring of onion, a tomato slice exposed its seedy smile, one she remembers to this moment.

She stopped then and turned her face toward him and the hateful wind.

Women stopped crying and danced; men sat down and cried; children danced, women laughed, children cried until, exhausted and riven, all and each lay about the Clearing damp and gasping for breath.

Would it be all right? Would it be all right to go ahead and feel? Go ahead and count on something

Love is or it ain't. Thin love ain't love at all.

Wat hij deed (...) stanste het glanzende ijzer uit Sethes ogen, zodat er twee putten overbleven die de gloed van het vuur niet weerkaatsten.

If you go there—you who was never there—if you go there and stand in the place where it was, it will happen again; it will be there, waiting for you . . . Even though it's all over—over and done with—it's going to always be there waiting for you.

He dragged her under him and made love to her with the steadiness and the intensity of a man about to leave for Dayton.