Quotes About Emotions

the impossibility of being humanall too humanthis breathingin and outout and inthese punksthese cowardsthese championsthese mad dogs of glorymoving this little bit of light towardusimpossibly.

There is no greater sorrowThan to recall a happy timeWhen miserable.

Let go, let go, let go, Just let it go, Let the tears come out, Stop fighting the tears back, Stop wearing different masks, Let yourself be seen, Let yourself be the real you,

All he did was breathe life into my soul. I was a conquest. An easy one, and you don't know how badly it hurts to know that I was used and tried for a time. Then thrown back.

it is being honest about my painthat makes me invincible.

I read somewhere that dedications are like coded love letters, but I always seem to lay us out bare.Sorry for the poems.

Oh my…!Love can be troubled somber, mournful and yet subtle and precise. Love is a chaotic thing, my dear!

You must remain. I must depart.Two autumns falling in the heart.

It could have been so beautiful.The way I learned and got free and swore to never love another person ever againand it could have been so beautiful, the way I actually did.

i hugged myself as a child & told Myself that everything was perfect in the petrichor The smell of pure innocence & earthy & earthly Innocence that stays in the clothes I only wear on good days…

Even the simplest poemMay destroy your immunity to human emotions.All poems must carry a Government warning. WordsCan seriously affect your heart.

Des Menschen Kraft, im Dichter offenbartThe human power is revealed by poetIl potere dell'umanità si rivela nel poeta

I am so brave with love and yet, so weak.

Falling in love with you was out of my control, but I do have a say in what happens next. And, I will choose to stay in love with you through everything this life throws at us.

Of our conflicts with others we make rhetoric of our conflicts with ourselves we make poetry.

I have heard queens' swans, moved a man to cry, heard Bach played in the Metro on guitars.I have made love in Paris. Let me die.

So few people read poetry. That's sad, isn't it?

The olive branch has been consecrated to peace, palm branches to victory, the laurel to conquest and poetry, the myrtle to love and pleasure, the cypress to mourning, and the willow to despondency.

The trouble with socialists is that they let their bleeding hearts go to their bloody heads.

This is a very tough business, politics. It's easy to get resentful or full of bitterness ... (but) I think hatred hurts the hater more than the hated. So I'm looking back on my time positively.

Nostalgia is one of the legitimate and certainly one of the most enduring of human emotions; but the politics of nostalgia is at best distracting, at worst pernicious.

In the business of politics, emotions and productive dissatisfaction with the world in which we live today are gradually being covered up by the minutiae of ordinary life.

If I cry, it's about the personal loss of a friend or something like that. But when it comes to politics - no, I don't cry.

Cruelty is fed, not weakened, by tears.