Quotes About Emotion

In life, loss was the engine that set Wilder's fiction in motion. Exile propelled the powerful emotional current of the Little House books, an intensely felt nostalgia for people and places lost to her. That emotion was absent in "Free Land," relegating it to homesteading soap opera. Its loosely linked anecdotes were joined not by familial love but by Lane's, and the Post 's, ideology.

In the peculiar alchemy of literature, the daughter was adept at creating in fiction what she had not known in her own childhood.

He was already fading. I knew that it wouldn't be long until he was just a vague image, however much I tried to cling onto his memory.

Poetry is really a way of sharing feelings and ideas.

You blush. You are Charlotte's Web and I could love you.

Talking to you is like traveling through time.

You ooze joy and she is an open wound, shrill and wan, unfucked and unloved.

I cry and watch Pitch Perfect and sing along with the Barden Bellas. I don't want to be a person who knows the name of a fictional a cappella group in a chick flick but that's what love has done to me.

I take my time walking up the stairs and onto the street. I want life to move slowly because I want to anticipate you with all my heart, greet you with all my heart, fuck you with all my heart and miss you with all my heart. I have to laugh because I sound like a greeting card but I deserve this, you, joy.

You miss me. And I miss you. It hurts, seeing you at that fire, giving your hands to the heat, the way I gave my hand to fire, only different. I imagine pushing you into the red abyss and jumping in after you, with you, so we can burn together, forever, a tree of life, light, sex.

I'll fucking kill Hugh Grant.

Sometimes you love someone so much that you can't bear a taste or a text because only this kind of moment will do. Shared air. Stillness on a love seat.

But hate suits you, inspires you, You rage

Love is breathing heavily, it's clear she's never talked about this to anyone. You know when someone is opening up a so private, that there isn't a key.

I loved her and she did not love me.

Well," I say and I should shut up and I want to shut up but you make me want to talk.

Love is a book. You don't skip ahead. You let the story surprise you.

There really is no such thing as the truth but there is such thing as happiness,

All right," I say and I go on, stronger than Celine Dion's heart.

Real blues shut you down and shut you up.

That's what we do when we read something that moves us, alters us, astounds us. Whether it's good or bad, we show it to someone we love, because when you read something, you want someone you love to read it, too.

Real love is quiet. A whisper between two people.

Acid shoots through my esophagus, all that leftover love with no place to go.

She says hello and I say hello and it defies all logic—I lost everyone I ever loved, everyone—but somehow my heart is intact. It ticks madly, just like hers.