Quotes About Emotion

How mysterious it is, to be in love. For you can be in love with one who knows nothing of you. Perhpas our greatest happinesses spring from such longings-being in love with one who is oblivious of you.

It feels good, honey, but it isn't love.

I could EAT YOUR HEART & asshole you'd never know it.

For what is delusion but the prelude to hurt. And what is hurt but the prelude to rage.

Memory blurs, that's the point. If memory didn't blur you wouldn't have the fool's courage to do things again, again, again, that tear you apart.

Yet I will make you all love me and I will punish myself to spite your love.

Only in love is there trust - even the possibility of trust.

Betrayal is the deepest wound. Betrayal is what remains of love, when love has gone.

Memory blurs, that's the point. If memory didn't blur you wouldn't have the fool's courage to do things again, again, again that tear you apart.

Because I am in love. Love is a slow bleed.

What is technique but the absence of passion?

The fundamental truth of my life whether in fact it was truth or a burlesque of truth: when a man wants you, you're safe.

There are people, primarily women!--who are what I call 'conduits of emotion.' In their company, the half dead can come alive. They need not be beautiful women or girls. It's a matter of blood warmth. The integrity of the spirit. He turned the page of his sketch pad and began anew, whistling thinly through his teeth. Thus an icy-cold soul, in the presence of one so blessed, can regain something of his lost self. Sometimes!

On the way home Mary Lou said, Some things are so sad you can't say them. But I pretended not to hear.

It is required that we must be fiercely beloved by one individual in order to exist: for Sabbath, Haley was that individual.

Laughter too depends upon memory—a memory of previous laughter. Dr.

The things that link us deepest, we can't feel. Except if they're taken from us.

SO RISKY, to love another person! Like flaying your own, outermost skin. Exposed to the crude air and every kind of infection.

She felt her pounding heart. Her hand seemed to enclose it. She thought for the first time in her life that it was nothing that was hers, that belonged to her, but just a pounding, living thing inside this body that wasn't really hers either.

Asked by a journalist how he had felt after an unsuccessful election, Abraham Lincoln said, Like a little boy who stubbed his toe in the dark, he was too old to cry but it hurt too much to laugh.

Love is what can't be helped. When it waxes, and when it wanes. Love is what happens when you've been looking another way. Love is that sensation of something on the back of your neck, tell yourself it's nothing, a strand of hair, at last you touch it and discover it's an insect—you cast off with a curse.

What've I got to do, to prove how much I love you? Blow us all away?

I could talk fast -- that's to say, without hesitating, stammering -- most of the time -- but there were categories of words, sentiments, I could never say, they'd have stuck in my throat. The embarrassment of it even whispering-teasing to Legs for instance 'Yeah you're my heart too!' or 'I love you' or 'I would die for you', nobody ever talked that way, mostly there was just my mother and me and we hardly talked at all.

The aim of theater—Aristotle said it first, and Aristotle said it best—is to arouse profound emotion in the spectator and through this arousal to effect a catharsis of the soul. If there's