Quotes About Emotions

Because a place can do many things against you, and if it's your home or if it was your home at one time, you still love it. That's how it works.

And then again, maybe people and things are the same as emotions: Even when you can't see them or feel them or be with them, and even when they have died and even before they are born, they still exist somewhere. Far away or close, they're always somewhere. Maybe nothing in the world is truly lost, I think.

We would be thousands of miles apart from now on and we would go on with our lives and get older and change and grow, but we would never have to look for each other. Inside each of us, I was pretty sure, was a place for the other. Nothing that had happened and nothing that would ever happen would make that less true.

Liz felt the loneliness of confiding something true in a person who didn't care.

I'd think, One of the times she leaves will be the last time I see her. It destroyed me. I didn't want us to have a last time, and that was how I realized I'd fallen in love with you.

Why would I want to stew in my aloneness?" "Because you're scared." "What am I scared of?" "Getting hurt. Knowing another person really well and another person knowing you really well. Feelings you can't make fun of. Interactions that go on for long enough that they maybe turn a little awkward or a little tedious instead of ending after ten minutes with a zinger.

Well-- My mother paused, and her tone was reflective in that way that is inevitably sad, because the past is sad. What I remember, she said, is that you were always such a dear little girl.

When I think of Henry and Oliver and Mike, I feel as if they are three different models - templates, almost - and I wonder if they are the only three in the world: the man who is with you completely, the man who is with you but not with you, the man who will get as close to you as he can without ever becoming yours. It would be arrogant to claim no other dynamics exist just because I haven't experienced them, but I have to say that I can't imagine what they are. I hope that I am wrong.

I liked being around other people during the day, and I was relieved to be alone late at night; it was the latter that made the former possible. In fact, setting up my nest often made me think of a Wordsworth phrase I'd learned in English class as a high school junior: emotion recollected in tranquillity.

It's hard to imagine him angry without them. It must be like watching a game show by yourself, how calling out the answers feels silly and pointless. What is fury without witnesses? Where's the tension minus an audience to wonder what you'll do next?

Cu ani mai tarziu, la o nunta, l-am auzit pe preot descriind casnicia ca pe o frangere in doua a tristetii si o dublare a bucuriei, si nu mi-a trecut prin minte nici tipul cu care eram atunci si nici vreun sot perfect, imaginar, din viitorul meu; in schimb, m-am gandit imediat la Matha.

I cried because I knew for certain that I was leaving home, and abruptly, I did not know if it was such a good idea- I realized that I, like my parents, had never believed I'd actually go.

Well, I said, I once heard a smart person point out that it's hard to determine where the dividing line is between cheesiness and acceptable emotional extravagance. He grinned again. I didn't tell you at the time, but I know exactly where that line is. When it's happening to other people, it's cheesy. When it's happening to you, it's wonderful.

But sometimes speaking is so hard! It's like standing still, then sprinting.

The fact that I had no opinion on, for instance, relations between the U.S. And China did nit mean I didn't feel things.

Liz had tried not to experience the doubly insulting sting of being excluded by a person she didn't care for.

I wonder if they are the only three in the world: the man who is with you completely, the man who is with you but not with you, the man who will get as close to you as he can without ever becoming yours.

People recognized you or they didn't, and it was unrelated to knowing you. Knowing you could just be your name or the street you lived on, your father's job. Recognizing you was understanding you had thoughts in your head, finding the same things funny or excruciating, remembering what you'd said months or even years after you'd said

And really, what has stayed with me from that vacation as much as my own suspicious, petty agonizing is my father on the esplanade just after our arrival. The wind blew his hair, and he was fidgety with delight, straining to explain to my mother and me exactly why the Mighty Mac was so impressive. I wondered at the time—I wonder still—if that was the happiest my father had ever been.

Though Chip's tears during the exchange of vows weren't a surprise, their duration and magnitude was a spectacle unlike any Liz had ever witnessed.

I thought how in the last few weeks, the idea of him had sometimes made me nervous but the reality of him always comforted me.

Early on, I'd occasionally wept in private after seeing an abused child. But quickly my tears had come to seem not just unprofessional but self-indulgent.

And the things you said, the walk from chapel to the schoolhouse, your backpack, tests, these were a bridge running above the rushing water of what you actually felt. The goal was: learn to ignore what's down below. Fine if you met someone else who was the same as you, but you had to realize that nothing another person could do would make you feel better about any of it.

My real frustration with Clara, I think, was that it seemed like she should be insecure but wasn't.