Quotes About Emotion

Poetry is a song without music," I said loftily. "A song without music is like a body without a soul.

It was like cool water on my dry, tired heart. The sweet smile of a young woman. There is nothing better in the world. It is worth more than salt. Something in us sickens and dies without it. I am sure of this. Such a simple thing. How strange. How wonderful and strange.

La poesía es una canción sin música. Y una canción sin música es como un cuerpo sin alma.

Music carries words over miles and into hearts and memories.

Amamos lo que amamos. La razón no entra en juego. En muchos aspectos, el amor más insensato es el amor más verdadero. Cualquiera puede amar algo por algún motivo. Eso es tan fácil como meterse un penique en el bolsillo. Pero amar algo a pesar de algo es otra cosa. Conocer los defectos y amarlos también. Eso es inusual, puro y perfecto.

The sweet smile of a young woman. There is nothing better in the world. It is worth more than salt. Something in us sickens and dies without it. I am sure of this.

You will not find it in the words of poets or the longing eyes of sailors. If you want to know of love, look to a trouper's hands as he makes his music. A trouper knows.

Amamos lo que amamos, la razón no entra en juego. En muchos aspectos, el amor más insensato es el amor más verdadero.

wanted to say something. I wanted to say it didn't bother me, but that would be a lie. I wanted to tell her all that really mattered to me was that she came back, but I was worried that might be too much truth.

Les paraules poden calar foc a la ment dels homes. Les paraules poden arrencar llàgrimes als cors més durs. Hi ha set paraules que faran que una persona t'estimi. Hi ha deu paraules que minaran la voluntat d'un home fort.

Así de pesado puede volverse un secreto. Puede hacer que la sangre fluya más fácilmente que la tinta.

My romances were all pleasant and brief. I cannot say why brief, except to state the obvious: that I do not have much in me that might encourage a woman to make a long habit of my company.

Perhaps it is enough to say that I was caught by a smile.

the desperate feel of the last warm night of summer.

fields. I found myself grinning for no good reason, save that I was happy.

But only a fool claims there is no such thing as love.

If you want to know of love, look to a trouper's hands as he makes his music. A trouper knows. I

Neither of us spoke. I closed my eyes. The closeness of her was the sweetest, sharpest thing my life had ever known.

And as I spoke the words I felt a terrible anger come together inside me. It wasn't hot and furious, as some of my flashes of temper tend to be. This was different, slow and cold. And as soon as I felt it, I realized it had been there inside me for a long while, crystallizing, like a pond slowly freezing solid over a long winter night.

For a moment my hands stopped aching from the cold, and instead longed for the familiar feel of music running through them.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN A Piece of Fire

So this is the defference between telling a story and being in one, he thought numbly, the fear.

The hot tips of her breasts brush my chest.

Tu es le vin doux dans ma bouche, la chanson dans ma gorge et la rire dans mon coeur.