Quotes About Emotion

A man without passion is only a latent force, only a possibility, like a stone waiting for the blow from the iron to give forth sparks.

Envy is the coward side of Hate, and all her ways are bleak and desolate.

Even in America, the Indian summer of life should be a little sunny and a little sad, like the season, and infinite in wealth and depth of tone—but never hustled.

You say that love is nonsense....I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.

Learn to reverence night and to put away the vulgar fear of it, for, with the banishment of night from the experience of man, there vanishes as well a religious emotion, a poetic mood, which gives depth to the adventure of humanity.

Learn to reverence night and to put away the vulgar fear of it, for, with the banishment of night from the experience of man, there vanishes as well a religious emotion, a poetic mood, which gives depth to the adventure of humanity. By day, space is one with the earth and with man--it is his sun that is shining, his clouds that are floating past; at night, space is his no more.

A gold and scarlet leaf floating solitary on the clear, black water of the morning rain barrel can catch the emotion of a whole season, and chimney smoke blowing across the winter moon can be a symbol of all that is mysterious in human life.

j'ai aimé ma mère avec la rage d'en être haï.

Sometimes when you look back on a situation, you realize it wasn't all you thought it was. A beautiful girl walked into your life. You fell in love. Or did you Maybe it was only a childish infatuation, or maybe just a brief moment of vanity.

You say that love is nonsense.... I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day; a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.

Where there is no passion there can be no poetry.

Love dies not nor can lovers die; And though vast worlds between them lie, Th' intelligencing current thrills From each to each the thought love wills.

In the world of nature we find the poets moved even to passion by objects that we hardly notice, or from long familiarity have come to ignore. Their strong emotion arises from their fresh vision.

'Twas in this lovely garden first I saw your loveliness displayed; You sat; my heart was high, and durst Sit by you wondering, undismay'd; You rose: my heart fell on its face And knew the Genius of the place.

Is not Christianity something altogether simpler than this? Have not all dogmas been successfully dissolved by literary tact? Is not religion just "morality touched with emotion," just precepts of good living, only "heightened and lit up by feeling"? Well, that Stoicism answered more or less to this description we have already seen; it was a system of morals that at times put on an emotional dress and masqueraded as a religion, and by stripping off this dress we lose no characteristic feature.

Others love you for their own sakes. I love you for your own self, And you, you flee from Me. Dearly beloved! You can not treat Me fairly, for if you approach Me, It is because I have approached you.

Off with your hat, as the flag goes by! And let the heart have its say; you're man enough for a tear in your eye that you will not wipe away.

Experience is in the fingers and head. The heart is inexperienced.

May we so love as never to have occasion to repent of our love!

The language of friendship is not words, but meanings. It is an intelligence about language.

There is no remedy for love but to love more.

The war was the only place where you could love men passionately.

Never miss an opportunity to say I love you...Better still...Create them ?????

He contrasts it with eloquence. And what a noble gift it is, the power of playing upon the souls and wills of men, and rousing them to lofty purposes and holy deeds! Paul says, "If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." We all know why. We have all felt the brazenness of words without emotion, the hollowness, the unaccountable unpersuasiveness, of eloquence behind which lies no Love.