Quotes About Emotion

It was the feeling she'd had when Sam had first kissed her in the pub. When he'd first put his lips against her. She didn't know if she'd imagined it or if it had just been the effects of the booze, but it had felt as if a thousand flash bulbs were going off in her brain. As if someone had turned on a very bright, very intense light. And she;d sure as hell never wanted to switch it off.

I always thought falling in love was hard, but now I realize that was the easy bit. It's staying in love that's the hard part.

Beauty, like love, makes us happy, but we have to be keenly receptive to the seduction. Until

Jealousy is the art of injuring ourselves more than others.

She'd skipped one of the most important parts. Or did she not remember their kiss? That would really piss him off, because every time he thought about it, he got hard all over again. He was about to call her on it, when he noticed how flushed her cheeks were. She remembered all right; she just didn't want to talk about it.

Nostalgia is only amnesia turned around," said the poet Adrienne Rich.

Ah, me resisto, mas me tienes toda, tú, que nunca serás del todo mío.

Demoro verte. No quiero verte. Porque temo destruir el recuerdo de la última vez que te vi.

Estás circulando por mis venas. Yo te siento deslizar pausadamente. Apoyo los dedos en las arterias de las sienes, del cuello, de los puños, para palparte.

Bendecida la fuerza de la Roca! Yo tengo el corazón como la espuma

You, who opened suns in my heart

Entonces hablo para sentir que existo, porque si no hablara mi lengua se paralizaría, mi corazón dejaría de latir, toda yo me secaría deslumbrada.

Tears are the summer showers to the soul.

Tears are summer showers to the soul.

We are all alike, and we love to keep passion aglow at our feet, Like one that sitteth in shade and complacently smiles at the heat.

Our modern pessimists cannot see a tree, a flower, or a mountain, but straightway they drop into what I may call a falling sickness, and all the beauty of the woods, fields, and sky merely suggests to them a picturesque background for their own superior sighs and sorrows.

Surely music is not only the food of love, but of poetry as well.

For great poetry, as Wordsworth teaches us in a single line, is not mere emotion, not mere subtle or sensuous singing, but "Reason in her most exalted mood."

In my song you catch at times Note sweeter far than mine, And in the tangle of my rhymes Can scent the eglantine.

Most patriotic verse, however spirited, is verse only, nothing or little more.

There is no passion of the human heart, no speculation of the human mind, to which Shakespeare has not, in some passage or another, given expressive utterance.

One must not trifle with love.

Each memorable verse of a true poet has two or three times the written content.

The return makes one love the farewell.