Quotes About Emotions

Haven't people learnned yet that the time of superficial intellectual games is over, that agony is infinitely more important than syllogism, that a cry of despair is more revealing than the most subtle thought, and that tears always have deeper roots than smiles?

I don't know how to make peace with things, were each moment to tear itself away from time to give me a kiss.

Cuando se vuelve a ver a alguien después de muchos años, habría que sentarse, uno frente al otro, y no decir nada durante horas para que, al amparo del silencio, la consternación pudiese saborearse a sí misma.

He should know no one intimately, least of all a woman.

It's not what people do to you, but what they mean, that hurts.

It isn't possible to love and to part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.

Why children?' he asked. 'Why always children? For love to end where it begins is far more beautiful, and Nature knows it.

I was determined that in fiction anyway two men should fall in love and remain in it for the ever and ever that fiction allows.

When love flies it is remembered not as love but as something else. Blessed are the uneducated, who forget it entirely, and are never conscious of folly or pruriency in the past, of long aimless conversations.

Love felt and returned, love which our bodies exact and our hearts have transfigured, love which is the most real thing that we shall ever meet, reappeared now as the world's enemy, and she must stifle it.

They had never struggled, and only a struggle twists sentimentality and lust together into love.

It is obvious enough for the reader to conclude, "She loves young Emerson." A reader in Lucy's place would not find it obvious. Life is easy to chronicle, but bewildering to practice, and we welcome "nerves" or any other shibboleth that will cloak our personal desire. She loved Cecil; George made her nervous; will the reader explain to her that the phrases should have been reversed?

For a wonderful physical tie binds the parents to the children; and—by some sad, strange irony—it does not bind us children to our parents. For if it did, if we could answer their love not with gratitude but with equal love, life would lose much of its pathos and much of its squalor, and we might be wonderfully happy.

It is easy to sympathize at a distance,' said an old gentleman with a beard. 'I value more the kind word that is spoken close to my ear.

A slow nature such as Maurice's appears insensitive, for it needs time even to feel.

You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you.

He had known so much about her once -what she thought, how she felt, the reasons for her actions. And now he only knew that he loved her, and all the other knowledge seemed passing from him just as he needed it most.

I only wish the poets would say this too: love is of the body; not the body, but of the the body. Ah! the misery that would be saved if we confessed that! Ah! for a little directness to liberate the soul!

As her time in Florence drew to a close she was only at ease amongst those to whom she felt indifferent.

Perhaps anything that he did would have pleased Lucy, but his awkwardness went straight to her heart.

It so happened that Lucy, who found daily life rather chaotic, entered a more solid world when she opened the piano. She was then no longer either deferential or patronizing; no longer either a rebel or a slave.

She hated war and liked soldiers—it was one of her amiable inconsistencies.

He lived on, miserable and misunderstood, as before, and increasingly lonely. One cannot write those words too often: Maurice's loneliness: it increased.

One is certain of nothing but the truth of one's own emotions.