Quotes About Emotion

tenderness so painful I thought my heart would burst.

I scarcely know how to describe that room. It became, in a way, every room I had ever been in and every room I find myself in hereafter will remind me of Giovanni's room.

It is axiomatic that the Negro is religious, which is to say that he stands in fear of the God our ancestors gave us and before whom we all tremble yet. There are probably more churches in Harlem than in any other ghetto in this city and they are going full blast every night and some of them are filled with praying people every day. This, supposedly, exemplifies the Negro's essential simplicity and good-will; but it is actually a fairly desperate emotional business.

I wish to God I may die if I don't love you. There ain't no sky above us if I don't love you

There are tears on his face, his face or mine, I don't know. I kiss him where our tears fall. I start to say something. He puts one finger on my lips. He smiles his little smile.

He held my face between his hands and I suppose 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 strange insistent gentleness on the mouth.

Hatred, which could destroy so much, never failed to destroy the man who hated and this was an immutable law.

Life is tragic, and therefore unutterably beautiful.

The love and the laughter come from the same place: but not many people go there.

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

For a woman,' she said, 'I think a man is always a stranger. And there's something awful about being at the mercy of a stranger.

I could not stop talking, though I feared at every instant that I would say too much. Perhaps I wanted to say too much.

But the fact that I had said it as he held my hand made it sound to me unutterably helpless and soft and coy.

He was sobbing, it would have been said, as though his heart would break.

Love him, said Jacques, with vehemence, love him and let him love you

she was disquietingly fluid — fluid, without, however, being able to flow.

I thought only, One day I'll weep for this. One of these days I'll start to cry.

A strange smile wavered just around his face, not yet in his face

It would help if I were able to feel guilty. But the end of innocence is also the end of guilt. 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.

But sometimes he would ask, in the middle of a sentence- concerned, possibly, with Ancient Rome: 'Little-bit- d'you love me?

Then, we were still. We did not move, because we could not. We held each other so close that we might indeed have been one body.

I told her that I have loved her once and I made myself believe it.

she looked again cold, brilliant, and bitterly helpless, a terrifying woman.

His smile made me feel a little foolish.