Quotes About Emotion

Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, it sends some precious instance of itself after the thing it loves.

Love's night is noon.

Their images I loved I view in thee And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.

Didst thou but know the inly touch of love Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow As seek to quench the fire of love with words. (2.7.18-20)

Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out at every joint and motive of her body.

A nacido lo único que amo de lo único que odio! ¡Demasiado temprano te encontré sin conocerte y demasiado tarde te conozco!

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous.

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones!

thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send Though ink be made of gall.

My love to love is love but to disgrace it, For I have heard it is a life in death, That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.

For their love Llies in their purses, and whoso empties them By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

i do love nothing in the world so well as you.

Albeit unusèd to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinal gum. Set you down this; And say besides,—that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian

And, till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears I'll present How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, And she in mine.

Young men's love, then, lies      Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity In least speak most, to my capacity.

A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

Iubirea schimb?-n limpezi frumuseÈ›i, tot ce-i m?runt È™i f?r? niciun preÈ›. Ea vede nu cu ochii, ci cu dorul; de-aceea Cupidon luându-È™i zborul, precum un orb, aÈ™a-i inf??iÈ™at... Copil nechibzuit, întraripat. Aripa-i semn c? graba îi da ghes, de-aceea se înÈ™al? atât de des.

Our tears are not yet brewed.

Romeu, Romeu! Ah! Porque és tu Romeu? Renega o pai, despoja-te do nome; ou então, se não quiseres juro ao menos que amor me tens, porque uma Capuleto deixarei de ser logo.

a raven's heart within a dove.

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other petty griefs have done their spite, But in the onset come: so shall I taste At first the very worst of fortune's might; And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compar'd with loss of thee will not seem so.

I have not art to reckon my groans, but that I love thee best, oh, most best, believe it.

For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.