Quotes About Emotion

It would be impossible to "love" anyone or anything one knew completely. Love is directed towards what lies hidden in its object.

What one wrote playfully, another reads with tension and passion; what one wrote with tension and passion, another reads playfully.

Poetry is a separate language, or more specifically, a language within a language.

Sentimentul de a fi tot si evidenta de a nu fi nimic.

La définition du Beau: il est ce qui désespère.

El dolor es siempre pregunta, y el placer, respuesta

it is only when you don't care that you don't desire

A traumatised person does not remember the trauma, but experiences it over and over again.

There is weeping in my heartLike the rain falling on the city.

What have you done, you thereWeeping without cease,Tell me, yes you, what have you doneWith all your youth?

II pleure dans mon coeur Comme il pleut sur la ville. NÆ¡i tim Ä'ây n?c n?, nhÆ° thành ph? mÆ°a rÆ¡i...

Ariette III Il pleure dans mon coeur Comme il pleut sur la ville ; Quelle est cette langueur Qui pénètre mon coeur ? Ô bruit doux de la pluie Par terre et sur les toits ! Pour un coeur qui s'ennuie, Ô le chant de la pluie ! Il pleure sans raison Dans ce coeur qui s'écoeure. Quoi ! nulle trahison ? Ce deuil est sans raison. C'est bien la pire peine De ne savoir pourquoi Sans amour et sans haine Mon coeur a tant de peine !

Chanson d'automne Les sanglots longs Des violons De l'automne Blessent mon coeur D'une langueur Monotone. Tout suffocant Et blême, quand Sonne l'heure, Je me souviens Des jours anciens Et je pleure ; Et je m'en vais Au vent mauvais Qui m'emporte Deçà, delà, Pareil à la Feuille morte.

Il pleure dans mon coeur Comme il pleut sur la ville.

A poem is really a kind of machine for producing the poetic state by means of words.

Moi, je ne puis, chétif trouvère de Paris, T'offrir que ce bouquet de strophes enfantines : Sois bénin, et pour prix, sur les lèvres mutines D'Une que je connais, Baiser, descends, et ris.

J'ai l'extase et j'ai la terreur d'être choisi.

Autumn Song" translated by Arthur Symons When a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn-song, My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long Pale as with pain, Breath fails me when The hours toll deep. My thoughts recover The days that are over, And I weep. And I go Where the winds know, Broken and brief, To and fro, As the winds blow A dead leaf.

I think my mom put it best. She said, 'Little girls soften their daddy's hearts.'

Pythagoras felt that specific notes affected people to very minute gradations of feeling. And every songwriter, I think, knows that D is a great key for a long song. It just happens to work. And B flat is always a great jump key for jazz. ~ Janis Ian

She wanted Mark to come back and to smell him and feel him and she wanted to tell him that they still beg for it from her, they still want her and what do you think about that Mark? I'm yours and I'm the slut of all sluts. She wanted to say, Markie you haven't taken it away from me I still have it. I still have what it takes. She thought, I could show you my insides, I could turn myself inside out for you, me, me, who everybody wants, me, who can swallow the whole world.

I am in love. It just happened, I never sought it, but I couldn't turn away from it.

Her words smelled of bonfires. They felt like dirt, filling his mouth. They tasted like Halloween. A.C. Wise For the Removal of Unwanted Guests

Pathos is sad and inspires pity, but is not very interesting because there is nothing to learn from it; the audience experiences mostly pity and futility.