Quotes About Emotion

You know that I've always had a very special feeling towards you; you

Scratch an Irishman and he'll bleed a story.

Avec un naturel éprouvé, elle passa en quelques instants de l'émotion à la reconnaissance, de la reconnaissance à la tendresse, de la tendresse au désir.

L'amour véritable vient de nous seuls et ne requiert aucun retour.

No es posible mostrar a una mujer un hombre apuesto que llora sin que se diga 'Desde luego, yo le habría amado mejor

Pain was the only sign to her that she was alive and could feel emotion.

She was no sworn wife, but Robin was the only man she ever loved as a husband... though not as much as her crown and thrown. The truth that tore at her breast, turning her about in circles, because he had known... he had known his love was greater than hers. Though it was not, she never could explain it rightly. No man understood, that he was not everything to the woman he loved.

Like her father, Bess never forgot a hurt of a service.

My lips and eyes and heart were stinging when you kissed me in the dark. — Jack Garton to Jennifer Hammer, 2008 (age 24)

Do you fall in love often?" Yes often. With a view, with a book, with a dog, a cat, with numbers, with friends, with complete strangers, with nothing at all.

Whoever it is you fall in love with for the first time, not just love but be in love with, is the one who will always make you angry, the one you can't be logical about.

Why is the measure of love loss?

Desire baffles knowledge and power.

I love you. You have no idea what you are worth to me.

Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did he have to stand so close, and why did I still love him so much?

Trauma waits for stillness. Lydia feels like a cracked egg, and she doesn't know if she's the shell or the yolk or the white. She is scrambled.

For all her love of words, at times they're entirely insufficient.

Her hatred is a living succubus, vast enough and quick enough and wicked enough to crest up from her heart and take wing, to expand across the hundreds of miles between them, to engulf the whole city of Acapulco, to veil the room in which he's standing, to overshadow him and overcome him, to slip into his mouth and choke him from the inside out. She hates him so much she can murder him from sixteen hundred miles away, just by wishing for it.

Everything about him changed when he talked about her—his voice, his face, his manner. His love for her was so earnest that he handled even the subject of her with tremendous care. Her name was like a fine glass bauble he was afraid of dropping.

makes a face that's like the opposite of rolling his eyes, where his features get really still, and he looks away from Lorenzo with his eyelids half-closed, and he just waits for the words to go away.

Es mi cielo, mi luna, y todas mis estrellas. My sky, my moon, and all my stars.

The noise thunders into her bones.

If there's one good thing about terror, Lydia now understands, it's that it's more immediate than grief.

She doesn't ask if he's okay, because from now on that question will carry a weight of painful absurdity.