Quotes About Emotion

You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list!

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!

Speak low if you speak love.

Blind is his love and best befits the dark- Benvolio

How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch Which hurts and is desired.

For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.

Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?

Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you did My heart fly to your service, there resides to make me slave to it, and for your sake Am I this patient log-man.

She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.

Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.

Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.

They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess I cannot sum up half of my wealth.

By this hand, I love thee. Beatrice Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.

This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.

O, teach me how you look, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.-Helena

Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty.

Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained ash an hundred times hath broke And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip The anvil of my sword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married; never man Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold.

If thou dost love, proclaim it faithfully.

O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die