Quotes About Emotion

However what Joana has inside her is something stronger than the love that people give and what she has inside her demands more than the love that people receive.

when art is good it is because it touched upon the inexpressive, the worst art is expressive, that art which trangresses the piece of iron and the piece of glass, and the smile, and the scream.

Si esta historia no existe, pasará a existir. Pensar es un acto. Sentir es un hecho.

Escrevo-te toda inteira e sinto um sabor em ser e o sabor-a-ti é abstracto como o instante.

Era una mujer débil frente a las cosas. Todo le parecía a veces demasiado preciso, imposible de ser tocado. Y, a veces, lo que usaban como aire de respirar era peso de muerte para ella. Vea si comprende a mi heroína, tía, escuche. Es voluble y audaz. No ama, no es amada. [...] Sin embargo, lo que hay dentro de Juana es algo más fuerte que el amor que se da y lo que hay dentro de ella exige más que el amor que se recibe.

It's so odd and hard to substitute the paintbrush for that strangely familiar but always remote thing, the word. The extreme and intimate beauty is within it.

It's so odd and hard to substitute the paintbrush now for that strangely familiar but always remote thing, the word. The extreme and intimate beauty is within it.

Around the shadow is a heat of abundant sweat. I'm alive.» «I'm alive. but I feel that I have yet to reach my limits, borders with what? ... And madly I take control of the recesses of myself, my ravings suffocate me with so much beauty. I am before, I am almost, I am never. And all of this I won when I stopped loving you. I write to you as an exercise in sketching before painting. I see words.»

Around the shadow is a heat of abundant sweat. I'm alive. I'm alive. But I feel that I have yet to reach my limits, borders with what? ... And madly I take control of the recesses of myself, my ravings suffocate me with so much beauty. I am before, I am almost, I am never. And all of this I won when I stopped loving you. I write to you as an exercise in sketching before painting. I see words.

Hay que saber sentir, pero también hay que saber cómo dejar de sentir, porque si la experiencia es sublime puede volverse igual de peligros.

Preciso perguntar, embora não saiba a quem, se devo mesmo amar aquele que me trucida e perguntar quem de vós me trucida. E minha vida, mais forte do que eu, responde que quer porque quer vingança e responde que devo lutar como quem se afoga, mesmo que eu morra depois. Se assim é, que assim seja.

Qué era la poesía, en realidad, esa palabra vergonzosa? ¿Era encontrarse cuando, casualmente, caía una lluvia repentina sobre la ciudad? ¿O tal vez mirar al mismo tiempo, mientras tomaba un refresco, el rostro de una mujer que pasaba por la calle? ¿O incluso encontrarse casualmente en la vieja noche de luna y viento.

Medo de não amar, pior do que o medo de não ser amado.

Fui a ver una película, no entendí nada, pero sentí todo. ¿Voy a verla de nuevo? No sé, no quiero arriesgarme, puedo de pronto entender y no sentir.

que façam harpas de meus nervos quando eu morrer.

This is not a lament, it's the cry of a bird of prey.

It is curious that I can´t say who I am. That is to say, I know it all too well, but I can´t say it. More than anything, I´m afraid to say it, because the moment I try to speak not only do I fail to express what I feel but what I feel slowly becomes what I say.

E eu não fora grande bastante: só os grandes amam a monotonia.

Not having been born an animal is one of my secret nostalgias.

Porque o tédio é de uma felicidade primária demais! E é por isso que me é intolerável o paraíso. E eu não quero o paraíso, tenho saudade do inferno! Não estou à altura de ficar no paraíso porque o paraíso não tem gosto humano!

Are we fruit of the same tree? No — Angela is everything I wanted to be and never was. What is she? She's the waves of the sea. While I'm the dense and gloomy forest. I'm in the depths. Angela scatters in sparkling fragments. Angela is my vertigo.

Clarice Lispector

Because a world fully alive has the power of a Hell.

I have a gift for passion, in the bonfire of a dry trunk I contort in the blaze.