Quotes About Emotions

Airports and train stations are where you get to cry

Over the years I've come to feel that the way people respond to us has less to do with what we've done and more to do with who they are.

Every mother can easily imagine losing a child. Motherhood is always half loss anyway. The three-year-old is lost at five, the five-year-old at nine. We consort with ghosts, even as we sit and eat with, scold and kiss, their current corporeal forms. We speak to people who have vanished and, when they answer us, they do the same. Naturally, the information in these speeches is garbled in the translation.

We call them feelings because we feel them. They don't start in our minds, they arise in our bodies

It was always her failure for not being able to talk to us, never ours for not being able to understand her.

There's no data to suggest that I can make you love me whatever I do.

No one would have liked that. Maybe I liked it even less. Here we go again, I said to myself. I said this so distinctly in my head that I heard it as well as said it. As if I was quite used to finding someone with no sense of boundaries in my space, fiddling with my things and breaking most of them. Here we go again

I DIDN'T KNOW what she was thinking or feeling. Her body had become unfamiliar to me. And yet, at the very same time, I recognized everything about her. My sister, Fern. In the whole wide world, my only red poker chip. As if I were looking in a mirror.

You might be shown the photos of the space chimps in their helmets, grinning from ear to ear, and you might feel an urge to tell the rest of your class that chimps grin like that only when they're frightened, that no amount of time among humans will change it. Those happy-looking space chimps in those pictures are frankly terrified and maybe you just barely stop yourself from saying so.

How was your day, Rosie?" Dad would ask when he came home from work and I'd tell him it was ebullient. Or limpid. Or dodecahedron. "That's good to hear," he'd say.

Threadbare, ravaged by love – as who amongst us is not.

Hathos," I offered finally and then thoughtfully provided the definition. "The pleasure you get from hating something.

We don't choose whom we love," he told Maura, so gently that she knew he knew. If she wasn't going to be loved in return, she would have liked not to be pitied for it. She got neither of these wishes. "But people have this advantage over swans, to put their unwise loves aside and love another. Not me. I'm too much swan for that.

One Mother's Day, he gave Mom a music box that played the theme from Swan Lake. She cried for days over it.

We call them feelings because we feel them.

We call them feelings because we feel them. They don't start in our minds, they arise in our bodies.

People earn the way they are missed.

We sat around our own table, an island of sad reflection in an ocean of merry din.

So this is what I said to Mom; this is what I meant to say - That there was something inside Fern I didn't know. That I didn't know her in the way I'd always thought I did. That Fern had secrets and not the good kind. Instead I'd said I was afraid of her. That was the lie that got her sent away.

She recognized that great love carries a price of great torment if it ends, but it also bestows a greater and more valuable gift.

El emparejamiento de los cuerpos no llevaba necesariamente a la unión de las mentes.

it at the same time. Dreaded the pain of looking at

Hatred can be pushed aside, but it will always whisper in your ear.

Why doesn't the fact that I'm human matter to human beings