Quotes About Emotion

Gawd, he thought furiously, he hadn't expected it to be like this. Just a lousy walk down the yard to give a carrot to the gangly chestnut. Guilt and fear and treachery. They bypassed his sneering mind and erupted through his nerves instead.

Words will never fully capture what is alive in our hearts. It would be a shame, though, if we denied our bears their dancing.

People here believe in uncontrollable passion, in mad rages, and in the brusque inevitability of death.

We'd appraise each other, in the provisional way that lovers do, by attaching great depth and significance to the provisional. How, after all, do you know anyone? You take in certain physical and emotional characteristics that you've aestheticized, ignoring the facts. You listen to what a lover has to say, taking in the erotic music of their sound, their timbre, while dismissing the lyrics.

Thinking of death--strange, beautiful, terrible and a long way off--made me feel happier than ever.

I get the feeling I do on finishing a novel with a brick-wall happy ending - I mean the kind of ending when you never think any more about the characters.

A mist is rolling over the fields. Why is a summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?

Art could state very little - it's whole business is to evoke responses.

Everything in the least connected with him has value for me; if someone even mentions his name it is like a little present to me--and I long to mention it myself, I start subjects leading up to it, and then feel myself going red. I keep swearing to myself not to speak of him again- and then an opportunity occurs and I jump at it.

perhaps it is loving that counts, not the being loved in return- that perhaps true loving can never know anything but happiness.

Never have I felt so separate from her. And I regret to say that there were moments when my deep and loving pity for her merged into a desire to kick her fairly hard.

So much of me longs to run after him and cry, 'Yes, yes, yes!' A few hours ago, when I wrote I could never mean anything to him, such a chance would have seemed heaven on earth. And surely I could give him - a sort of contentment? That isn't enough to give. Not for the giver.

Incidentally, I never felt less brisk in my life, because being looked at like that makes a person feel dizzy.

I glanced through another page in case I had missed something, and came to the description of Simon's face as he lay on the grass with his eyes closed. It gave me a stab in which happiness and misery were somehow a part of each other.

It was so nice that Simon was here for it - tell him I enjoyed every minute - ' it was glorious writing that - almost like telling him I was glad he'd kissed me. But after I'd posted the letter I was worried in case he guessed what I'd meant.

I love you, I love you, I love you. ~Cassandra

The vague expression was gone from his eyes - I had a feeling it was gone forever.

He can be so appreciative of all forms of art, but so matter-of-fact and unemotional about it.

If someone even mentions his name it is like a little present to me - and I long to mention it myself. I start subjects leading up to it, and then I feel myself going red. I keep swearing to myself not to speak to him again - and then an opportunity occurs and I jump at it!

I was going to give the farewell call – a farewell for ever this time, not just for a year. The call is a queer wordless cry made up of all the vowel sounds - and it was thrilling when Rose and I used to make it together, but I do it fairly well by myself. 'Ayieou!' I called - and it echoed back from the castle walls as I knew it would.

extreme happiness invites religion almost as much as extreme misery.

Just to be in love seemed the most blissful luxury I had ever known.

And love is a force much misunderstood by humans, who put it into a very tiny, narrow little box.

Fear is self-awareness raised to a higher level.