Quotes About Emotions

Mrs Bartholomew did not cry, because she had done all her crying for that so long ago.

Too evident sorrow does not inspire pity but repugnance, it is the sign of mental instability or of bad manners: it is morbid.

Why me? He says: Because you are not like all the others, because I don't see anyone but you and you don't even realize it. He adds this phrase, which for me is unforgettable: Because you will leave and we will stay.

I had the time to think all the way home about how affairs of the body are so much more preferable to affairs of the heart, but that sometimes you don't have the choice.

This feeling of love, it transports me, it makes me happy. At the same time, it consumes me and makes me miserable, the way all impossible loves are miserable.

Je me demande si la froideur des pères fait l'extrême sensibilité des fils.

Il me rend à la solitude. La plus profonde, celle qu'on ressent au cœur d'une foule.

He goes back to the books—this crazy number of books in the house neatly lined up or stacked in piles. All of a sudden I see a sort of admiration return to his face, but it's a painful admiration; what he likes about me is also what keeps me separate from him.

His was the first male sex I held in my hand, other than my own. My first kiss was the one he gave me. My first embrace, skin against skin, was with him.

I add: It was then that we lost touch, he and I. These last words are articulated with the least possible affect, as if life is just like that sometimes, you spend time together and then lose touch and life goes on—as if there were no breaks from which you never quite recover.

Je voulais juste t'écrire que j'ai été heureux pendant ces mois que nous avons passés ensemble, que je n'ai jamais été aussi heureux, et que je sais déjà que je ne serai plus jamais aussi heureux.

In any case, I like to repeat his name to myself in secret. I like to write it on scraps of paper. I am stupidly sentimental: that hasn't changed much.

I wonder if it's cold fathers who make the sensitive sons.

He says: Because you are not like all the others, because I don't see anyone but you and you don't even realize it. He adds this phrase, which for me is unforgettable: Because you will leave and we will stay.

I just wanted to write to tell you that I have been happy during these months together, that I have never been so happy and that I already know I will never be so happy again.

Porque tu um dia hás de partir e nós vamos ficar.

J'ajoute : c'est à ce moment-là qu'on s'est perdus de vue, lui et moi. J'articule ces derniers mots sans y mettre le moindre affect, comme si la vie, c'était ça, simplement ça, se fréquenter et se perdre de vue et continuer à vivre, comme s'il n'y avait pas des déchirements, des séparations qui laissent exsangues, des ruptures dont on peine à se remettre, des regrets qui vous poursuivent longtemps après.

Il a, sur le bord des lèvres, toutes les rancunes de l'enfance.

Ai-je jamais été aussi proche de lui qu'aujourd'hui ? J'ai beau connaître notre intimité, qui date du premier jour, qui ne s'est jamais démentie, qui donne tout son sens au mot fraternité, il me semble que notre proximité n'a jamais été aussi grande que dans ces instants qui sentent la fin.

Dans le spectacle de son absence, c'est sa présence que je reconnais.

I want to live. I want to feel the pulse of life. That excitement that brings both pleasure and terror. I want to feel joy, even at the risk of sadness.

Il faudrait avoir des regrets. Croire que j'aurais mieux fait de me rebeller, mais non, je n'y arrive pas. Si c'était à refaire, je ne changerais rien. Avec toi, quelle qu'aurait été la manière, je n'aurais pu échapper à la souffrance, à la pureté éclatante de la souffrance.

Vous vous êtes tant et si mal aimés, tous les deux ». La phrase est venue comme un coup de grâce. Tombée comme un couperet. J'ai entendu le bruit de la lame quand, après sa course brève, elle sectionne les nuques. Tant et si mal aimés. Peut-on viser plus juste ?

When I see a dead bird," Hans Dorfer said to me, "and I pick it up in my hand, tears come into my eyes. I can't make them not come. Nothing can justify the death of a bird. But if my father croaked all of a sudden, right here, right next to me, I swear I'd dance around the table and buy you a drink. I swear.