Quotes About Emotion

I think humor is warmer, and wit is colder. Wit is judgment, whereas humor invites some sort of response.

These are the seasons of emotion, and like the winds, they rise and fall.

These are the seasons of emotion And like the wind, they rise and fall This is the wonder of devotion I see the torch We all must hold This is the mystery of the quotient, quotient Upon us all, upon us all a little rain must fall

You know you shook me, you shook me all night long.

The cardinal sin in poker, worse than playing bad cards, worse even than figuring your odds correctly, is becoming emotionally involved.

There is, in the heart, the hard-rendering profit. As if we were plucking the leaves from the trees.

It is not what happens that is success or failure, but what it does to the heart of man.

played her body like an instrument

Someone ripped a baby from a mother's womb," Eve said. "Getting the monster who did that is worth all of our resources." She'd surprised herself by saying that, more by the vehemence behind it than the words themselves.

completely," he said. "She closed her eyes through most

Panic, as I said before, is the most contagious of all sicknesses.

But Daisy saw the colour ebb from his face, the light leave his eyes, and reached him first, and it was Daisy who caught him as he fell.

You have this scent" Hana said quietly, "I used to think it was your perfume. Joy, ne?" "I still wear that." "I know," Hana said, and Etsuko resisted the urge to sniff her own wrists. "It's not just the perfume, though, it's all the other creams and things that you wear, and it makes up this smell. I used to walk around department stores wondering what it was. The smell of mama." Book 3, p401

Is a smile a question? Or is it the answer?

A great actor is independent of the poet; because the supreme essence of feeling does not reside in the prose or in verse, but in the accent with which it is delivered.

Oh, love. Love is best of all. There is no such total element, not even pain. Who has ever loved, knows this. I need not say more.

Ecstasy and vulnerability belonged in the same dish. The fear the cup would be snatched away was what gave the wine its savor.

It's lovely. I hate it.

Never be afraid of a cliché, if it expresses what you wish to say.

I held out my book. It was precious to me, as were all the things I'd written; even where I despised their inadequacy there was not one I would disown. Each tore its way from my entrails. Each had shortened my life, killed me with its own special little death.

Whatever I did—whether I was writing or playing—there was blood on the pages, there was blood on the strings, because anything less than that was just bullshit, and a waste of fucking time.

Tears are the Soul's baptism of cleansing.

Love is the Soul's exquisite vibrations.... Love is the Soul at song.

Every dead hope is a phantom that grimaces over its tomb.