Quotes About Emotion

All art is a kind of confession.

It doesn't do any good to fight with Sonny. Sonny just moves back, inside himself, where he can't be reached.

She fitted in my arms, she always had, and the shock of holding her caused me to feel that my arms had been empty since she had been away.

The face of a lover is an unknown, precisely because it is invested so much within oneself. It is a mystery, containing, like all mysteries, the possibility of torment.

Love him,' said Jacques, with vehemence, 'love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?

Sometimes, when he was not near me, I thought, I will never let him 'Touch' me again. Then, when he 'Touched' me, I thought, it doesn't matter, it is only the body, it will soon be over. When it was over, I lay in the dark and listened to his breathing and dreamed of the 'Touch' of hands, of Giovanni's hands, or anybody's hands, hands which would have the power to crush me and make me whole again.

People are full of surprise, even for themselves, if they have been stirred enough.

No matter how it seems now, I must confess: I loved him. I do not think that I will ever love anyone like that again. And this might be a great relief if I did not also know that, when the knife has fallen, Giovanni, if he feels anything will feel relief.

He grins again, and everything inside me moves. Oh, love. Love.

Oedipus did not remember the thongs that bound his feet; nevertheless the marks they left testified to that doom toward which his feet were leading him. The man does not remember the hand that struck him, the darkness that frightened him, as a child; nevertheless, the hand and the darkness remain with him, indivisible from himself forever, part of the passion that drives him wherever he thinks to take flight.

His touch could never fail to make me feel desire; yet his hot, sweet breath also made me want to vomit.

We stared at each other across a narrow space that was full of danger, that almost seemed to roar, like flame. 'Come,' he said.

one day I'll weep for this. One of these days I'll start to cry.

The first love disappears, but never goes. That ache becomes reconciliation.

San?r?m iki insan?n hem gülmesi hem seviÅŸmesi, güldükleri için seviÅŸmeleri ve seviÅŸtikleri için gülmeleri pek az rastlan?r bir durumdur. Sevmek ve gülmek hep ayn? yerden gelir de, o noktaya pek çok kiÅŸi eriÅŸemez.

They are just dirty, all of them, low and cheap and dirty.' He stretched out his hand and pulled me down to the floor beside him. 'All except you. Tous, sauf toi.' He held my face between his hands and I supposed such tenderness has scarcely ever produced such terror as I then felt. 'Ne me laisse pas tomber, je t'en prie,' he said, and kissed me, with a strange insistent gentleness on the mouth.

No matter how it seems now, I must confess: I loved him. I do not think that I will ever love anyone like that again.

And there was something so artless in this smile that I had to smile back.

Giovanni looked at me. And this look made me feel that no one in my life had ever looked at me directly before.

I guess it can't be too often that two people can laugh and make love, too, make love because they are laughing, laugh because they're making love. The love and the laughter come from the same place: but not many people go there.

I went down again. My heart and I went down again. I was aware of her hand. I was aware of my breathing. I could no longer see it, but I was aware of her face.

Women don't see men the way men want to be seen. They see all the tender places, all the places where blood could flow.

a boy with an unspeakable past was a man with an unendurable future. He was good to look at, good to dance with, probably good to sleep with: but he was no longer good for love.

The man does not remember the hand that struck him, the darkness that frightened him, as a child; nevertheless, the hand and darkness remain with him, indivisible from himself forever, part of the passion that drives him wherever he thinks to take flight.