Quotes About Emotion

The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself

That was when I learned that words are no good; that words dont ever fit even what they are trying to say at. When he was born I knew that motherhood was invented by someone who had to have a word for it because the ones that had the children didn't care whether there was a word for it or not. I knew that fear was invented by someone that had never had the fear; pride, who never had the pride.

He just thought quietly, 'So this is love. I see, I was wrong about it too', thinking as he had thought before and would think again and as every other man has thought: how false the most profound book turns out to be when applied to life. [...] 'Perhaps they were right in putting love into books,' he thought quietly. 'Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.

He was looking at her from behind the smiling that wasn't smiling but was something you were not supposed to see beyond.

Knowing not grieving remembers a thousand savage and lonely streets.

I would say that music is the easiest means in which to express, but since words are my talent, I must try to express clumsily in words what the pure music would have done better.

When the switch fell I could feel it upon my flesh; when it welted and ridged it was my blood that ran, and I would think with each blow of the switch: Now you are aware of me! Now I am something in your secret and selfish life, who have marked your blood with my own for ever and ever.

Then it wasn't and she was, and now it is and she wasn't.

She has no mother because fatherblood hates with love and pride, but motherblood with hate loves and cohabits.

Why yes he thought it ain't a place a man wants to go back to; the place dont even need to be there no more. What aches a man to go back to is what he remembers. from... THE MANSION page 106

Poate c? au avut dreptate când au pus dragostea în c?rÈ›i, se prea poate ca ea s? nu poat? exista în alt? parte.

All right. It is so, then. But not to me. Not in my life and my love.

be.—Yes he thought Between grief and nothing I will take grief.

B]ecause the second time I ever saw you I learned what I had read in books but I never had actually believed: that love and suffering are the same thing and that the value of love is the sum of what you have to pay for it and anytime you get it cheap you have cheated yourself.

Caddy olía como los árboles cuando llueve y como cuando ella dice que estamos dormidos.

yes I hate him I would die for him I've already died for him I die for him over and over again

He just stood and looked at his dying mother, his heart too full for words.

Again. Sadder than was. Again. Saddest of all. Again.

the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar.

who is he who will affirm that there must be a web of flesh and bone to hold the shape of love?

But Uncle Gavin says it don't take many words to tell the sum of any human experience; that somebody has already done it in eight: He was born, he suffered and he died.

From time to time he would feel that acute surge go over him, like his blood was too hot all of a sudden, dying away into that warm unhappy feeling that fiddle music gave him.

It's a comfortable thing, music is.

I was a little crazy. You know how it is, how you want to rush into something you know is going to happen, no matter what it is. I guess lovers and suicides both know that feeling.