Quotes About Emotion

No one but a lover should ever see such an expression, and then only fleetingly, yet here it was, captured forever.

Perhaps she wasn't as good at it as he was. He cut too deep.

She looked him in the eye, the eyes she'd seen wide with lust, not with tears, shining with joy.

Blood rushed sweet and hot under my skin and laughter bubbled up through me and I loosed it.

We could acknowledge it between us as long as it remained unspoken.

She swallowed, and her heart filled with light she had known as a child.

Her lips were soft and plump as rain and Peretur wanted to plunge her hands deep into her golden yellow hair, deep under her skirts to the soft places beneath, and she could feel their hearts thundering like horss, like hoses yoked and racing together, pulling towards the same goal, beanth tearing in and out.

His hazel eyes shone with something. Perhaps it was the reflection of new leaves. She hoped so.

Indifference was her cloak and shield.

The music, when it came, with a rish, a gush of voice seeking its note, ripped away her indifference and tore through her as sudden and shocking as snowmelt.

They reckon you feel love in your heart but that's bollocks. True love, the type what strikes you down and makes you change for ever, you feel that kind of love in every fucking organ inside you.

True love, the type that strikes you down and makes you change forever, you feel that kind of love in every f*****g organ inside you. Liver, kidneys, heart, and spleen. Every tiny cell what makes up your brain and your spine, your bones and blood and muscles. It keens through you.

Sadness creeping from the shadows will get less and less until it crushes her no more than a petal might her breath.

El gran arte literario está en presentar con plenitud plástica lo inefable.

It is enough for beauty to touch our tedium for our heart to be torn like silk between the hands of life.

Es genügt, daß die Schönheit unseren Überdruß streift, damit unser Herz wie Seide zwischen den Händen des Lebens zerreißt.

A paean to justice intoxicates us, because it seems to us to be an apology for the passion, just or unjust, which blinds us.

Love opens my chest, and thought returns to its confines. RUMI, from GRANITE AND WINEGLASS

Happy who in his verse can gently steerFrom grave to light, from pleasant to severe.

Love, a pleasant folly; ambition, a serious stupidity.

And so I leave this world, where the heart must either break or turn to lead. [last words]

It is passion that makes man live; wisdom makes one only last.

Feeling creates thought, men willingly agree; but they will not so willingly agree that thought creates feeling, though this is scarcely less true.

Movies are not scripts - movies are films they're not books, they're not the theatre.