Quotes About Emotion

I'd cut up my heart for you to wear if you wanted it.

If I said I was madly in love with you you'd know I was lying.

I'd cut up my heart for you to wear if you wanted it.

A thousand times today I've started to open my mouth, started to squeak out, "Can you tell me...? But then I'd look into the front seat, at my mother's silent shaking, my father's grim profile, the mournful bags under his eyes, and all the questions I might ask seemed abusive. Assault and battery, a question mark used like a club. My parents are old and fragile. I'd have to heartless to want to hurt them.

He loved her, would give his life for her, he knew that now. Why that was, he wasn't completely sure. It didn't matter. It was what it was.

To wear your heart on your sleeve isn't a very good plan; you should wear it inside, where it functions best.

All human happiness revolves around love. Love is central to the bonds on which a family is built.

I said he kissed me. Really kissed me. It rocked me to my soul. It was brutal. It was brilliant. It was horrible. I thought I was going to die.

I don't love you, you know. I'm merely crazy about you.

It may come as an extraordinary shock to you but you're the only woman who has ever succeeded in getting under my skin. It could be because you're a raving lunatic.

Tall, elegant, vital, scornful. A man like that could rock a woman to her very core.

Really, the insufferable conceit of the man. How dared he have the unutterable gall to know how her knees weakened at the sight of him, how she felt full of life and spirit when he was with her, how his very touch sent fire coursing through her veins in a way she hadn't known existed outside the pages of lending-library novels!

I sing without knowing what my song means, and whether the listening world is amazed or wounded.

he whispers, his eyes going velvet.

Baby, tonight you're the reason I have lips.

In the death of every creature we have loved, we taste our own.

A strong woman is a woman who craves love like oxygen or she turns blue choking. A strong woman is a woman who loves strongly and weeps strongly and is strongly terrified and has strong needs. A strong woman is strong in words, in action, in connection, in feeling; she is not strong as a stone but as a wolf suckling her young. Strength is not in her, but she enacts it as the wind fills a sail.

The cork had come out with a ghost of a pop; it was a beautiful sound, regretful, grateful, kind. "There

I love you. I really do. As I am now, with these last five years behind me, I am a person who is quite terribly in love with you and will always be – or so I think now, today, in this taxi.

George Abbershaw's prosaic mind quivered on the verge of poetry when he looked at her.

Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real." "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit. "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.

A pale, thin, small woman, perfectly coiffed, perfectly dressed, without makeup, without a single piece of jewelry, ascetic (viperous?) (her heart sullied by the world's contagion?) stands beside Eduardo, making him gigantic: she smiles mechanically.

She came to feel that too much had been required of her. She would have her revenge. She would insist on an inner life regulated by despair.

How sweet it was to be scolded by such a tiny.