Quotes About Emotions

Finley felt a fresh wash of tears, a desire to run toward Eloise, to cling and to hold on. But she didn't. She had already learned the most important lesson Eloise had to teach, though it still hurt like hell: Fear holds on. Love lets go. "Yes

They just want to be heard. They just want us to listen to their stories. Are

What did it really mean to love someone? Did it have to last forever to have existed at all?

She just wanted to love and to be loved. She just didn't know what love looked like

Eloise knew that it was so much more complicated than that. There are no trades in this life, and depression is a dark, dark doorway some people have no choice but to walk through.

Character gives us qualities, but it is in actions—what we do—that we are happy or the reverse…. All human happiness and misery take the form of action. —ARISTOTLE Writing

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. —Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

wondering why people held on to anger and sadness, gripped it tight, let it dictate the course of their lives, but found it so hard to find and keep love.

And how the connections between them were as terribly fragile as they were indelible.

Motherhood was a widening circle of good-byes.

solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia.

That night. It was buried so deep. A blessed amnesia can set in after trauma. You move away from the event and it takes on dreamlike qualities. It recedes from the day-to-day. But it's not gone, just submerged. When it surfaces, it brings up powerful emotions. Rage. Terror. Sadness like a well with no bottom.

Some things don't leave us. We just learn to live with them better.

counseling. She said that grief is not linear. It's not a slow progression forward toward healing, it's a zigzag, a terrible back-and-forth from devastated to okay until finally there are more okay patches and fewer devastated ones.

She could push inside or walk away. She could force a conversation, which might turn into a fight. Or just let him come to her when he was ready. She hesitated a moment, conflicted. Then she opted for the latter, moving quietly down the stairs, feeling that strange loneliness again. Uselessness, she thought, was the permanent condition of parenthood.

Her mother always said that when you were sad or worried or angry, that you had to do something. Anything. Go for a walk. Make cookies. Draw a picture. Clean your room. Never just lie there and feel sad or mad, because those feelings become like weights, holding you down, and they only get heavier, and you only get less likely to move them.

The rich and vivid imagining that served her so well on the page was torture in her real life sometimes, if she let her thoughts sweep her away.

Mako show. Not always, but definitely during the workday. He'd bluster in, full of big ideas, or complaints, or ranting about this or that. He'd take up all her energy, without even meaning to.

After each dream, Frankie woke with a start, soaked in tears. But she found no relief in the peaceful silence of her room, because there everything was real. And the guilt was too immense to bear. Each time she opened her eyes, she'd quickly shut them. And wish that she had woken up for the very last time.

It was an image Melody would never forget. Or was it the emotions the image conjured - hope, excitement, and fear of the unknown, all three tightly braided together, creating a fourth emotion that was impossible to define. She was getting a second chance at happiness and it tickled like swallowing fifty fuzzy caterpillars.

Because whipping an atlas at Jackson's head while he was flirt-touching that Frankie girl in geography would have been very satisfying. And beating him with the Eiffel Tower snowglobe while he kissed Cleo in French would have been tres cathartic. But she hadn't. Instead she'd been egg-like: a hard shell on the outside, and a runny mess on the inside.

The confusing lesson whipped Frankie's anger into something she had never felt before. It was like an emotional meringue - the airy feeling of loneliness topped with the hard crisp of injustice. Yet its taste was far from sweet.

Anyway, no guy wants to be with a girl if she's not into him. So you did him a favor.

D.J. kind of led me there. He smirked. I think he likes her. No! Yes! No. Yes. No. This can't be happening. Oh, it's happening. Jackson chuckled, because what else could he do?