Quotes About Emotion

Hands grab pull want ask demand. "If you loved me. If you loved me.

He looks me right in the eye, and all of a sudden I want to kiss him. [...] I almost take a step forward, there's that kind of draw. It's almost spiritual. Does he feel it too? He looks at me like he does.

Deep inside me something says don't feel anything, go back to sleep, when you feel, it hurts. When you love, people die." —Ruth Mendenberg

Will you be all right?" she asked How could I be? Would you be all right, I felt like screaming, if you'd just watched your family taken away, watched your entire town taken away, to be murdered . I'll never be alright.

And then, right in front of Lufa, they kissed again.

There is something very cool about writing your worst memories through someone else's eyes. You start to see what happened to you... almost as if it happened to somebody else. Especially if that made-up person is nice, it's a great exercise because there are many mean people in this world.

Love covers a myriad of plausibility structures.

Love and truth have no correlation.

How does a poet know when a poem is ended? Because it lies flat, taut; nothing can be added or subtracted. How does a woman know when a marriage is over? Because of the way her life suddenly shears off in just two directions: past and future.

We can see the smoke of a burning home, but who can know of a burning heart? MALAY SAYING

Dissonance is bothersome under any circumstances, but it is most painful to people when an important element of their self-concept is threatened—typically when they do something that is inconsistent with their view of themselves.

The specific tactics vary, but our efforts at self-justification are all designed to serve our need to feel good about what we have done, what we believe, and who we are.

Memories create our stories, but our stories also create our memories.

This small story illustrates three important things about memory: how disorienting it is to realize that a vivid memory, one full of emotion and detail, is indisputably wrong; how even being absolutely, positively sure a memory is accurate does not mean that it is; and how errors in memory support our current feelings and beliefs.

HAN: I love you. Another shared look between them, as she smiles at Han. LEIA: I know.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Grief was a strange companion. At first it had hit hard and strong, like a blast of frigid wind, a shuddering blow that left no air in his body. Then it subsided for a while, rising up from time to time like an adder, coiled and poised to sink its teeth into the flesh of its victim. Ian had tried outrunning it, then fighting it, but quickly found the best thing was to lie still and let it crash over him like a wave.

devastating effects." This personal revelation from a man he had just met made

After sex, after coffee, after everything there is to be said -- The hovering and beautiful alphabet as we form our first words after making love. And somehow I'm still alive.

What the light looks like in the pear trees, in October, is a hundred teardrops of gold, the whole orchard weeping.

In the calm violence of your being, desire.

I weep flowers, I weep song, I bleed

As if thought were not our most passionate, our most ardent aspect.

I look at one of those beautiful creatures [horses] and I only have to catch a certain tilt of a head or the curve of an ear and I honestly could weep for love. And although I know they are not capable of returning my love it doesn't matter; if anything, it just intensifies it. I think that is love.