Quotes About Emotion

But though it was the most resonant and real-seeming thing that had happened in a long time, I didn't want to spoil it by talking about it...

Colors so bright, they nearly broke my heart.

For in the deepest, most unshakable part of myself reason was useless.

But even that day, there on the porch, with Charles beside me and the smell of wood smoke in the air, it had the quality of a memory; there it was, before my eyes, and yet too beautiful to believe.

To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal!

I was as depressed as I have ever been in my life.

is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name?

She closed her eyes, dark-lidded, dark shadows beneath them; she really was older, not the glancing-eyed girl I had fallen in love with but no less beautiful for that; beautiful now in a way that less excited my senses than tore at my very heart.

A picture that will never leave me. I suppose at one time in my life I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell.

swaying and sleepy as I sailed home on the bus, melting with sorrow and loveliness, a starry ache that lifted me up above the windswept city like a kite: my head in the rainclouds, my heart in the sky.

It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is a being separate from all the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one's burned tongues and skinned knees, that one's aches and pains are all one's own. Even more terrible, as we grow older, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can never truly understand us. Our own selves make us most unhappy, and that's why we're so anxious to lose them, don't you think?

Some things are too terrible to grasp at once. Other things-- naked, sputtering, indelible in their horror-- are too terrible to really ever grasp at all.

I loved her every minute of every day, heart and mind and soul and all of it, and it was getting late and I wanted the place never to close, never.

I think about it quite a bit, actually, that look on his face. I think about a lot of things. I think about the first time I ever saw a birch tree; about the last time I saw Julian; about the first sentence that I ever learned in Greak. ?????? ?? ????. Beauty is harsh. ? Donna Tartt, The Secret History

Safe trip. I love you. No kidding.

And isn't the whole point of things—beautiful things—that they connect you to some larger beauty?

When she went back to the telephone Hely's breath, on the other end, was ragged and secretive.

We stood looking at each other. It was raining. She looked at me with her rain-colored eyes.

Aristotle said in the poetics, that objects such as corpses, painful to view in themselves, can become delightful to contemplate in a work of art.

Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greek or our own, than to lose control completely.

a love more binding than physical affection, some tar-pit of the soul where I might flop around and malinger for years.

She raised up on tiptoe and gave me a cool, soft kiss that tasted of Popsicles. Oh you, I though, my heart beating fast and shallow.

Henry. Please. I was on the verge of tears. What's the matter with you? Have you lost your mind? Don't you understand what's going on? He stood up, dusted his hands on his trousers.

Mais, vrai, j'ai trop pleuré! Les aubes sont navrantes.