Quotes About Emotions

Weetzie could not even cry and make Kleenex roses. She remembered the day her father, Charlie, had driven away in the smashed yellow T-bird, leaving her mother Brandy-Lynn clutching her flowered robe with one hand and an empty glass in the other, and leaving Weetzie holding her arms crossed over her chest that was taking its time to develope into anything

My baby brother would never call Hex soft. Not Hex. And not me, either. Not anymore. Not any fucking more.

Alcuni posti, dove è avvenuto qualcosa di significativo, diventano sacri. L'amore produce una geografia sacrale del mondo.

That was one plus about profound self-loathing. Nobody could hate you worse than you hated yourself.

Jessica felt like a heroine in a tragic, dramatic love story. She lifted her chin and turned away. It was all over.

After all, she told herself, if Todd preferred Jessica—and that certainly was how it looked—she would not stand in the way. She'd do the decent thing. Die.

Jessica walked away from Aaron and Ken, flashing them both a big smile. They were both very attractive – she had dated each of them a number of times. In fact, not too long ago she had contemplated falling in love with Ken for lack of anything better to do.

She was glad that the bleak sky threatened rain and that the air was finally turning cold. All that warm sunshine seemed to demand perkiness and pastel-colored clothing.

My girls," she said smiling through her tears, "my beautiful twin girls.

Are you afraid no one loves you? Taryn looked serious. Because my mom says that people really do love each other. They just get confused sometimes and forget how to let each other know.

She felt obligated to remain dysfunctional and sullen for at least another hour.

Regina didn't answer, and that made Jessica fume. What's wrong with this girl? she wondered. Why is she treating me like dirty dishwater? Then she began to piece it together. The stumble, the lack of response to Jessica—It was only natural to conclude that the Morrow girl was drunk. Say, Regina, Jessica called. She took a few steps toward her and tapped her on the shoulder. Where are you hiding the booze?

Heather was paralyzed. Anger told her to get between them and make trouble, Pride told her to run away. Hurt told her to cry. Cunning told her to make Sam feel as guilty and small as possible. She waited to hear what Intelligence had to say. It never spoke first, but its advice was usually worth waiting for.

A woman would have to be crazy to marry, or even have sex with, a man who would prosecute every lover's quarrel like a criminal case

Consequently, we sympathize. We identify. We care. In fact, most writers would like you to identify

Isolated in the attic, Anne could only examine her own history and her own conscience, and try to locate the wellspring of her sadness and her rage.

illness of Bep's father—bad news that makes her want to fall asleep as a release from thinking.

also discovered my inward happiness and my defensive armor of superficiality and gaiety.

You think, Fuck it. The guy's a genius. He deserves her. What is a woman, after all? You are alive and in Paris.

I wanted to know what he thought about my loving a man whose bills were being paid by another woman.

How ashamed most of us would be, if we were reminded of some past behavior, some attitude that we maintained while under the delusion that we were in love—and were loved in return.

Her mother had responded in kind, and the result was "unpleasantness and misery rebounding all the time.

Every song may be someone's personal implement of torture.

Margot used to like describing men as 'my unhappy love affair.' But hadn't that presumed the existence of a happy love affair that made the others unimportant? What is unhappy is the only kind Margo ever has?