Quotes About Emotions

What he could bear in the waking world he could not by night and he sat awake for fear the dream would return.

In the end we all come to be cured of our sentiments.

Grief is the stuff of life. A life without grief is no life at all. But regret is a prison. Some part of you which you deeply value lies forever impaled at a crossroads you can no longer find and never forget.

I look for the words, Professor. I look for the words because I believe that the words is the way to your heart.

Words pale and lose their savor while pain is always new.

Each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins.

The cooler days have brought a wistful mood upon him. The smell of coalsmoke in the air at night. Old times, dead years. For him such memories are bitter ones.

There were times when he sat watching the boy sleep that he would begin to sob uncontrollably but it wasn't about death. He wasn't sure what it was about but he thought it was about beauty or goodness. Things that he'd no longer any way to think about at all.

Ten thousand dreams ensepulchred within their crozzled hearts.

Love makes men foolish. I speak as a victim myself. We are taken out of our own care and then it remains to be seen only if fate will show to us some share of mercy. Or little. Or none.

He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins.

At what age in a child's life does rage become sorrow?

What the Squire has never understood is that forgiveness has a time limit. While it's never too late for revenge.

Ten thousand dreams ensepulchered within their crozzled hearts.

All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain.

It must surely be true that there is no such collective domain of joy as there is of sorrow. You cant be sure that another man's happiness resembles your own. But where the collective of pain is concerned there can be little doubt at all.

My guess is that you can only be so happy. While there seems to be no floor to sorrow. Each deeper misery being a state heretofore unimagined. Each suggestive of worse to come.

I dont know what to tell you, he wrote. Much has changed and yet everything is the same. I am the same. I always will be. I'm writing because there are things that I think you would like to know. I am writing because there are things I dont want to forget. Everything is gone from my life except you. I dont even know what that means. There are times when I cant stop crying. I'm sorry. I'll try again tomorrow

In the end we all come to be cured of our sentiments. Those whom life does not cure death will.

Love is quite possibly a mental disorder itself.

I've been at some pains to tell you about myself because among other reasons I think we should know who our enemies are. I've known people to spend their lives nursing a hatred of phantoms and they were not happy people.

Because beauty has power to call forth a grief that is beyond the reach of other tragedies. The loss of a great beauty can bring an entire nation to its knees. Nothing else can do that.

Music is made out of nothing but some fairly simple rules. Yet it's true that no one made them up. The rules. The notes themselves amount to almost nothing. But why some particular arrangement of these notes should have such a profound effect on our emotions is a mystery beyond even the hope of comprehension. Music is not a language. it has no reference to anything other than itself

Grief is the stuff of life. A life without grief is no life at all. But regret is a prison.