Quotes About Emotion

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—'t would put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.

If I am destined to be happy with you here -- how short is the longest Life.

How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more Beautiful than Beauty's self.

What is there in thee, Moon! That thou should'st move my heart so potently?

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs

I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment - upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses.

I can bear to die - I cannot bear to leave her.

Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.

Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine

I would have borne it as I would bear death if fate was in that humour: but I should as soon think of choosing to die as to part from you.

A clammy dew is beading on my brow, At mere remembering her pale laugh, and curse. "Ha! ha! Sir Dainty! there must be a nurse Made of rose leaves and thistledown, express, To cradle thee my sweet, and lull thee: yes, I am too flinty-hard for thy nice touch: My tenderest squeeze is but a giant's clutch.

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft swell and fall, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon to death.

Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you: how much more deeply then must I feel for you knowing you love me. My Mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it. I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment -- upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses.

O, the sweetness of the pain! Give me those lips again! Enough! Enough! It is enough for me To dream of thee!

Aí de quando a paixão é simultaneamente modesta e arrebatada!

How could I sleight you? How threaten to leave you? not in the spirit of a Threat to you -- no -- but in the spirit of Wretchedness in myself.

I must confess, that (since I am on the subject) I love you the more in that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else. I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.

My heart aches, a drowsy numbness pains as if of hemlock I had drunk.

We hate poetry that has a palpable design upon us—and if we do not agree, seems to put its hand in its breeches pocket. Poetry should be great & unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself but with its subject.

Love doth scathe The gentle heart, as northern blasts do roses.

Do not all charms fly / At the mere touch of cold philosophy?

Open your heart, Ignatius, and you will open your valve.

Miró agradecido la nuca de Myrna, la cola de caballo que golpeaba inocente sus rodillas. Gratamente. Qué irónico, pensó Ignatius. Y, tomando la cola de caballo con una de sus manazas, la apretó cálidamente contra su húmedo bigote.

What I mean is, I love winter, and when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love. I didn't think that this was true, my seventeen years of experience had shown this to be much more false than true, but it was like every other thought and belief of Finny's: it should have been true.