Quotes About Emotion

Retrieving Sorrow is a kind of religion, too.

Don't you see, Johnny? If he could, he would cut off his hands for you—that's how it makes him feel, to have touched that baseball bat, to have swung that bat with those results. It's how we all feel—you and me and Owen. We've lost a part of ourselves.

With our mothers, we are always alone

Were you happy when you heard the news, Grandpa?" "You can't believe how happy." "What did you do to celebrate?" "I started dancing and fell in a trench full of shit.

Two souls with but a single thought, Two hearts that beat as one!

The excellence of every Art is its intensity.

Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad…

Thou art a dreaming thing, A fever of thyself.

You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving.

Touch has a memory. O say, love, say, What can I do to kill it and be free?

I bade good morrow, And thought to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly; She is so constant to me, and so kind. - To Sorrow

I never knew before, what such a love as you have made me feel, was; I did not believe in it; my Fancy was afraid of it, lest it should burn me up. But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with Pleasures.

I never was in love - yet the voice and the shape of a woman has haunted me these two days.

To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon in death.

Alas! when passion is both meek and wild!

I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.

I find I cannot exist without Poetry

Love is my religion--I could die for it.

Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

The excellency of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeable evaporate.

When shall we pass a day alone? I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love - but if you should deny me the thousand and first - 'twould put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.

The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it, Was never said in rhyme.

And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun/ And she forgot the blue above the trees,/ And she forgot the dells where waters run,/ And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze;/ She had no knowledge when the day was done,/ And the new morn she saw not: but in peace/ Hung over her sweet basil evermore,/ And moisten'd it with tears unto the core.