Quotes About Emotion

here." "Yeah," she said, as tears rolled down her cheeks again, "and you love Liz too. I could see it." She started to sob then and buried her face in his

sometimes that happened, but like everyone else, he was grateful she had

would hear him. His lips barely moved, and then

Estéril es la persona que no puede amar, que no puede dar nada, que vive encerrada en sí misma. Todo eso es lo que importa y nada de eso eres tú, Sam. Tú no eres así.

had told her he was

confessional atmosphere of the dark

there. I think he must have come to hate

her, and it seemed wiser not to see each

I was saying yes because when you're in love, the world is full of possibilities, and when you're in love, you want to take every single one of them.

Because the one thing I hate about hope - the one thing I despise about it, that no one ever seems to admit about it- is that suddenly having hope is the easiest route to sudden hopelessness there is.

Your love interest becomes the most important thing to you. And if the love is requited, it's the biggest high in the universe, and you'd be fine never being with anyone else. But if this person doesn't want you back, well, you pretty much wish you were dead . . . or that that person dies miserable.

For me, at least, feeling something, even something bad, is better than feeling nothing.

Sometimes he felt her watching him in return. Studying him. Once he heard her breathing stop, then start then stop again. 'What is it?' he asked, and she frowned a little. I'm trying to breathe with you.

Love wasn't a thing you fell in, but rose to. It was what stopped you from falling.

I suppose memory has at least two faces, and capricious ones at that.

The hands of fate keep time on a heart-shaped clock.

Mr. Crepsley was every bit as composed as he'd sworn he would be. He didn't even shed a tear when the funeral litter was set alight. It was only later, when he was alone in his cell, that he wept loudly, and his cries echoed through the corridors and the tunnels of Vampire Mountain, far in the cold, lonely dawn.

This world was made to be cloaked in gray. It wouldn't feel natural if the sun shone brightly all the time.

Mr. Crepsley was every bit as composed as he'd sworn he would be. He didn't even shed a tear when the funeral litter was set alight. It was only later, when he was alone in his cell, that he wept loudly, and his cries echoed through the corridors and tunnels of Vampire Mountain, far into the cold, lonely dawn.

We rutted like cats.

His eyes burned yellowly.

Margaret's throat had some swollen thing in it. Fog blurred everything but the charging red face. An unvoiced whimper shook her breast. She wanted to run to him as to a lover. She wanted to run from him as from a ravisher. She stood very still in her doorway, smiling demurely with dry, hot mouth.

Black Stache had no love for the Queen, no love for women of any sort, except for his ma. He had a real soft spot for his ma, and was truly sorry for the time he'd marooned her.

He felt a momentary pang of regret that he had not spent more time with his beloved wife. But it passed when he remembered that the reason he'd gone to sea in the first place was that he had never really liked his beloved wife.