Quotes About Emotion

Whoever spoke of a wise lover? The wiser the lover, the longer ago he stopped loving.

He let himself be storm-tossed, riding her billowing sea. When she held him like this he could see nothing, but the colour of his blindness was the colour of waves breaking

But aunties are equivocal figures of affection, wicked and unreliable, pretending love only so long as they are short of love themselves, and then off.

Is that what lives on longest, the sadness? The proof of our being weak, not the proof of our being strong?

Poetry is a means of seeing invisible things and saying unspeakable things about them.

any given moment can suddenly fill you with a sense of elegiac anticipation.

The heart is seldom rational - the mind, sometimes.

Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane.

when we love something, emotion often drives our actions.

All thoughts of revenge are born of the pain of helplessness. 'I suffer' becomes 'You will suffer'. And let us not lie: Vengeance is invigorating. It focuses and enlivens us, and it quashes grief because it turns the emotion outward. In grief we go to pieces. In revenge we come together as a single pointed weapon aimed at a target. However destructive in the long run, it serves a useful purpose for a time.

Is het mogelijk, dat voor sommige mensen, het hele leven lang, een bepaalde angst niet meer ophoudt?

Sorry Marion.

Marion fought back the urge to shove the candle in his face and did her best to broaden her smile...

Vinnie loves me. He loves me. It. Wasn/t. Shit

In the winter everyones hate was bare if you looked.

Time has to pass. But sometimes its so goddamn long. Sometimes it just seems to drag and drag and weigh a ton. And hang on you like a monkey. Like its going to suck the blood out of you. Or squeeze your guts out. And sometimes it flies. And is gone somewhere, somehow, before you know it was even here. As if time is only here to make you miserable. That's the only reason for time. To squeeze you. Crush you. To tie you up in knots and make you fucking miserable.

At long last Helen raised herself on an elbow and turning towards the man, kissed him gently. Her eyes shone, contented and happy. "Ah, and now, darling, aren't you ashamed for having kept me waiting so long?" she chided.

The world thinks we idealize our friend, and tells us that love is proverbially blind. Not so: it is only love that sees.

Chesterton never achieves a great poem because his poems are compilations of statements not intensely felt but only intensely meant.

Reason is not some external power which dictates how we should behave, but an internal power, integral to who we are ... Reason does not command that we love anyone. Nonetheless, reason is vital in determining whom we love and why we love them.

She kissed me. She kissed me. What I mean is, I was standing there, lips puckered, brain puckered, and she just stepped up and threw her tongue into my mouth. For a moment, I thought maybe she'd tripped on a floorboard and stuck out her tongue as a reflex - but that didn't seem very likely somehow, and anyway, once she'd got her balance back, wouldn't she have put her tongue away again? No, she was definitely kissing me.

Love is a word. A sound. Its association with a particular feeling is arbitrary, unmeasurable, and ultimately meaningless

Love, sought as an escape from the burden of the self, turns rapidly into a captivity.

People talk of calf-love with wistful disdain, but mine was as intense as any emotion I knew until I crossed the frontier, years later, when I discovered that all loving is a loving of life in the midst of death.