Quotes About Emotions

Mentira nenhuma, afinal, era mais violenta que as mentiras que nós contamos a nós mesmos e aí desgraçadamente temos que continuar contando para segurar aquele vômito todo no estômago, comendo a gente por dentro.

A gente pensa umas coisas que preferia não pensar. Acontece na vida.

Lovers. Not a soft word, as people thought, but cruel and tearing.

even if she's faking, it shows she wants to feel something, doesn't it, oughtn't decent people to help her?

What if people really did that--sent their love through the mail to get rid of it? What would it be that they sent? A box of chocolates with centers like the yolks of turkeys' eggs. A mud doll with hollow eye sockets. A heap of roses slightly more fragrant than rotten. A package wrapped in bloody newspaper that nobody would want to open.)

Pa dobro. Bilo bi isto da se opet sretnemo. Ili ?ak i da se ne sretnemo. Ljubav koja se ne može iskoristiti, ljubav koja zna svoje mesto. (Neki bi rekli, ljubav koja nije realna, jer se nikada ne bi izložila opasnosti da joj zavrnu šiju, da o njoj pri?aju neslane viceve, niti da se tužno istroši). Ljubav koja ništa ne rizikuje, a ipak živi, kap po kap, kao podzemna žila. S težinom ove nove tišine, s takvim pe?atom.

Ora non credo piú che la gente abbia segreti precisi e comunicabili, né sentimenti esuberanti e facili da riconoscere. Non ci credo piú.

for me to say." He smiled; he shook his head. "I don't

love is the strut and hate is the stumble.

I was the girl he had chosen to kiss. He wanted, somehow to set me free. He didn't want to burn my photo or toss it away, but he didn't want to look at me anymore, either.

You could not be filled with hate and be beautiful. Like any other girl, I wanted to be beautiful. But I was filled with hate.

She sat in her room on the couch my parents had given up on and worked on hardening herself. Take deep breaths and hold them. Try to stay still for longer and longer periods of time. Make yourself small and like a stone. Curl the edges of yourself up and fold them under where no one can see. ~pg 29, Susie's sister Lindsey dealing with grief.

How could it be that you could love someone so much and keep it secret from yourself as you woke daily so far from home?

I watched my beautiful sister running . . . and I knew she was not running away from me or toward me. Like someone who has survived a gut-shot, the wound had been closing, closing - braiding into a scar for eight long years.

Please don't let Daddy die Susie, he whispered. I need him.

These things, she felt, were not to be passed around like disingenuous party favors. She kept an honor code with her journals and her poems. 'Inside, inside,' she would whisper quietly to herself when she felt the urge to tell...

When he felt his heart hurt he turned into something stronger than a little boy, and he grew up this way. A heart that flashed from heart to strone, heart to stone. As I watched I thought of what Grandma Lynn liked to say when Lindsey and I rolled our eyes or grimaced behind her back. Watch out what faces you make,. Youll freeze that way. (The Lovely Bones)

I tried to take solace in Holiday, our dog. I missed him in a way I hadn't yet let myself miss my mother and father, my sister and brother. That way of missing would mean that I had accepted that I would never be with them again; it might sound silly but I didn't believe it, would not believe it.

We lay there with our bodies touching, and as I shook, a powerful knowledge took hold. He had done this thing to me and I had lived. That was all. I was still breathing. I heard his heart. I smelled his breath. The dark earth around us smelled like what it was, moist dirt where animals lived their daily lives. I could have yelled for hours.

Mi madre era eterna como la luna. Viva o muerta, la madre o la ausencia de la madre siempre determina la vida de una persona.

At nearly two months,the idea of it as news was fading in the hearts of all but my family-and Ruth

You don't notice the dead leaving when they really hoose to leave you. You're not meant to. At most you feel them as a whisper or the wave of a whisper undulating down.

I was unable to recognize something that I would come up against time and time again. You could not be filled with hate and be beautiful. Like any girl, I wanted to be beautiful. But I was filled with hate. So how could I be both..?

I had wondered if all mothers shared a fear of how vibrant and alive their children were.