Quotes About Emotion

And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms

and kisses are a better fate than wisdom

I don't know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all the roses. Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose ... (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Unless you love someone nothing makes sense.

Exists no miracle mightier than this: to feel.

Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader---not the fact it is raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.

Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader – not the fact that it is raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.

I could tell that she felt happy.  Happiness is excitement that has found a settling down place, but there is always a little corner that keeps flapping around.

Kisses are a better fate than wisdom.

Only by you my heart always moves.

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

love is a deeper season than reason; my sweet one

feeling is first

love being such, or such, the normal corners of your heart will never guess how much my wonderful jealousy is dark

somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence; in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near

the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

and from my thighs which shrug and pant a murdering rain leapingly reaches the upward singular deepest flower which she carries in a gesture of her hips)

for every mile the feet go the heart goes nine

Only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses. Nobody, not even the rain has such small hands.

i charge laughing. Into the hair-thin tints of yellow dawn, into the women-coloured twilight

I fear no fate for you are my fate, my sweet.

since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you

to hell with literature we want something redblooded