Quotes About Emotion

We are dealing with creatures of emotion, creatures bristling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity.

All life long crying without avail, As the water all night long is crying to me.

Her bottom is so beautiful that once as she crossed the room to the cooler I felt my eyes smart with tears of gratitude.

I needed her to stop. Needed not to hear the pain in her voice--to see the way she was twisting the pocketbook strap. If she kept talking, she might break down and tell me everything.

You know what 'Dolores' means? It's Latin, means sadness. Our Lady of Sorrow. Why are you so sad?

there was no shorthand for I'm sorry. You were obliged to speak those two words.

Your mother mentioned she had a little girl. These are for you, sweetheart. Just a little something, heh heh. He handed me a wrinkled paper bag with a grease spot on it. I hate it when you could hear a person's saliva right in their laugh.

As anxious and limited as that love might have been, it had been love nonetheless.

Mine is a story of craving. Each memory makes me a child again.

Depression was, in some ways, a crisis of energy. I had heard her say that before; we were in reruns.

For five minutes, neither of us spoke. I stared ahead and watched the seat upholstery go blurry from my tears.

He sat down on one of the pilings looking sick and sad and I knew he was thinking about Ma and the baby. I wanted badly to cheer him up but singing commercials seemed the wrong thing to do.

If I talked, I might cry.

My vision blurred over with tears.

Making the decision to have a child—it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body.

I got on my bike and drove, fast and recklessly. The humid air pushed thick against my face; if a child had walked in front of my path, I might have killed it. I sped past Jeanette's street and past the Treetop Acres sign and onto Route 118. I squeezed the rubber handlebar caps, squeezed the shaking out of myself. I hated both of them. The harder I pedaled—the more I risked—the better it felt.

Ask any of us cynical bastards. to lift up our shirt, and we'll show you where we got shot in the heart.

My art comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable.

O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you; As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you, Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.

What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the words I have read in my life.

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.

In the confusion we stay with each other, happy to be together, speaking without uttering a single word.

Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.

dash me with amorous wet, i can repay you