Quotes About Emotion

There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the sadness is without limit.

All is the fear, and nothing is the love, as little is the wisdom, where the flight so runs against all reason.

Farewell, sweet playfellow.

Let still woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart, For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner to be lost and warn, Than women's are.

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

Therefore love moderately: long love doth so; Too swift as tardy as too slow.

too much sadness hath congealed your blood, And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

William Shakespeare

Still so cruel? Still so constant, lord.

Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.

No, my heart is turn'd to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand.

Ah, kill me with your weapon, not with words.

Music oft hath such a charm To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.

He kiss'd, –the last of many doubled kisses, –this orient pearl.

When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.

Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear

How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.

Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? TITUS ANDRONICUS: Ha, ha, ha! MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour. TITUS ANDRONICUS: Why, I have not another tear to shed:

I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love   To spite a raven's heart within a dove.

I pity you That's a degree to love

a girl takes too much time to love and a few seconds to hate. but a boy takes a few seconds to love and too much time to hate.

There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

William Shakespeare

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.