Quotes About Emotion

Amava-a, lamentava não ter tido tempo nem a inspiração de ofendê-la, de fazer-lhe mal, de forçá-la a se lembrar de mim. Achava-a tão linda que desejaria retroceder para gritar-lhe, erguendo os ombros: "Como a acho feia, ridícula, como você me repugna".

She had so little expected to see him that she recoiled in fear. And he himself had run all over Paris not because he thought it was possible to find her, but because it was too hard for him to give up the search.

Love?" she had once replied to a pretentious lady who had asked for her views on love, "I make it often but I never talk about it." When

De liefde? Die bedrijf ik vaak maar ik spreek er nooit over. (Mme de Villeparisis in 'De kant van Guermantes'.

Love teaches us much, but also it much corrupts us.

he never dared to allow this smile a definite expression on his features,

that men can be being sincere with their friends, and even with themselves, when they speak warmly of a woman's kindness to them, even though, to tell the truth, their relationship is undermined secretly, in a way they do not confess to others or which is revealed involuntarily in response to questions, to inquiries, by a painful anxiety.

It was now so much a part of him, that it could not have been torn from him without destroying him almost entirely: as they say in surgery, his love was no longer operable.

I received in a kiss my mother's heart, complete, without the reservation of an afterthought,

But never again would I be able to erase that contraction from her face, or that suffering from her heart, or, rather, from my own; for, since the dead exist only in us, it is ourselves that we strike unrelentingly when we persist in remembering the blows we have dealt them. I clung to these sorrows, however cruel they might be, with all my strength, for I felt that they were the effect of my memory of my grandmother, the proof that this memory which I had was indeed present in me.

The words Gisèle's eyes promised would be spoken to me as soon as Albertine left us alone together were not to be uttered,

The dead last so short a time … Alas, in the coffin they crumble into dust, Less quickly than in our hearts!

Love is nothing more perhaps than the stimulation of those eddies which, in the wake of an emotion, stir the soul

an icy shudder convulsed his body and he burst into sobs. He did not wish to know why, but dried his eyes, saying with a smile: "This is delightful; I'm becoming neurasthenic.

To anything that we do not know to be related to the real life of the person whom we love we pay but scant attention, we forget immediately what she has said to us about some incident or people that we do not know, and her expression while she was saying it.

That art had become a poor and pitiable thing. It was no longer inhabited by a deep-rooted soul.

28. Comment j'aimerais mourir. — Meilleur et aimé. 29. État présent de mon

recalling our life in the old days at Combray with my great-aunt, at Balbec, Paris, Doncières, Venice, and the rest;

He knew himself so little that he doubtless imagined that he was in love with her, perhaps indeed that he would be in love with her always

She was obliged, of course, to admit that Swann was not interested in money, but she would add sulkily: "It's not the same thing, you see, with him," and, as a matter of fact, what appealed to her imagination was not the practice of disinterestedness, but its vocabulary.

do you think it possible for a woman really to be touched by a man's being in love with her, and never to be unfaithful to him?

But above all my anguish was incomparably stronger this time, for many reasons, of which the most important was not perhaps that I had never tasted sensual pleasure with Mme de Guermantes or with Gilberte, but that since I did not see them every hour of every day and had no opportunity, and consequently experienced no need, to do so, my love for them lacked the all-powerful element of Habit.

it was only at that moment—more than a year after her burial, because of the anachronism which so often prevents the calendar of facts from corresponding to the calendar of feelings—that I became conscious that she was dead.

And grief is as potent in altering reality as is drunkenness