Quotes About Emotions

But maybe love doesn't have to be about lust, maybe I could learn to love, maybe.

I had absolutely no idea what to say to him, this man I had struggled

Kažu da je bol najja?i kada te neko prvi put povredi i da svaki slede?i put boli manje i ja verujem da u tome ima zrno istine, ali tako?e kažu da svaki put kada ti neko slomi srce granice izdržljivosti postaju sve manje, dok na kraju ne postaneš tvrda i cini?na i nespremna da ikome išta daš.

Muškarci. Verovatno jedini segment mog života koji je potpuna katastrofa. Ne da ih ne sre?em. pobogu, ?ini mi se kao da mile odasvud, samo što su oni koji odlu?e da izmile meni u susret po pravilu obi?ni crvi. Tipi?no, zar ne?

The two or so times we actually fought she smashed a plate and stormed out into the night. I have always disliked an argument. When I tried to be the voice of reason, when I pointed out that it might be wiser to continue what I mildly referred to as, "the discussion," she flew off the handle again. Later, in jest, she accused me of being more even and mature than any reasonable person could tolerate.

We are part of each other's live in much the same way a lover is only slightly beneath closed lids in sleep.

There is nothing like lying down to bawl and choke, and then rolling over so the tears can drip out of your ears and settling in for a long sleep.

During these long periods of solitary contemplation in a setting of such dramatically haunting beauty, I found myself overcome by waves of loneliness.

If you want to leave the park and your child isn't ready to go, give her a hug and say, "You're really upset right now. I know you want to stay, but it's time to leave." Then hold your child and let her experience her feelings before you move on to the next activity. If you were instead to pamper your child by letting her stay at the park longer, she doesn't have the opportunity to learn from experience that she can survive disappointment.

The first three years, however, are especially important; what a child learns and decides about himself ("Am I loved or unloved, capable or not capable?") and the world around him ("Is it safe or threatening, encouraging or discouraging?") becomes part of the "wiring" of his brain. The outside world, which is experienced through a child's senses (hearing, seeing, smelling, and touching), enables the brain to create or change connections.

Few studies have been done to discover why the happy man is happy, yet his answers would be highly pertinent.

vehemence, however, that she broke through the barriers

she stretched and yawned, a suggestion of desire informing all her nerves. Extraordinary…not that she should feel desire but that she should not have felt it, consciously, for years.

I live in the desert of the heart. I can't love the whole damned world.

Because I can't help loving you, your wild, inaccurate emotions, your bizarre innocence, your angry sense of responsibility, your wrong-headed wit, your cockeyed joy, your cowboy boots, your absolutely magnificent body, your incredible eyes. I can't help it. I don't know how anyone could.

Upstairs, in the cupboard, he had a box of things he had saved as a boy and a young man. He hadn't looked into it in twenty years or more. Nothing fancy or valuable, but things that had meant something to him at one time. He found it, and found the key, and carried it downstairs without opening it.

surprised. Then everyone, by unspoken

am thirty-five years old, and it seems to me that I have arrived at the age of grief. Others arrive there sooner. Almost no one arrives much later.

And then he saw what he was, an old man, ready to die, pressed against the Greenland earth, as small as an ash berry on the face of a mountain, and he did the only thing that men can do when they know themselves, which was to weep and weep and weep.

We knew right off how to think of them but not precisely how to feel about them.

Hay cosas que podemos hacer sin problema en nuestra familia –comer tranquilamente, prestar dinero, contar secretos–, pero cuando nos juntamos, los ecos del pasado nos desbordan.

This was the way it was going to be then, this road she was going to have to walk. She would always be thinking of him so that he would be beside her even when he wasn't there, making her joyous or miserable, but always, always controlling the colour of her days.

And those you never forgive you find impossible to forget. — Jane Urquhart, The Underpainter (McClelland & Stewart, 1997)

The women of this family leaned towards extremes.