Quotes About Emotions

A man that does not know how to be angry does not know how to be good.

Laughter is day, and sobriety is night a smile is the twilight that hovers gently between both, more bewitching than either.

Fear secretes acids; but love and trust are sweet juices.

Never forget what a person says to you when they are angry.

We know how much corn they [i.e., the enslaved people on Hairston plantations] ate, but do not know how they felt to see the sun rise.

The world has robbed me of my love, time has dried up hatred, and as the living individual must feel something, I live upon what remains to me. I must also say that he who feels and lives thus does not get a surfeit of happiness.

own single law; Hei! be amazed, grow not enraged! thou in thy

How strange it was to think that he, who such a short time ago dared not believe in the happiness of her loving him, now felt unhappy because she loved him too much!

I think love, both kinds of love, which you remember Plato defines in his "Symposium" - both kinds of love serve a touchstone for men. Some men understand only the one, some only the other. Those who understand only the non-platonic love need not speak of tragedy. For such love there can be no tragedy. "Thank you kindly for the pleasure, good bye," and that's the whole tragedy. And for the platonic love there can be no tragedy either, because there everything is clear and pure.

He had learned that, as there is no situation in the world in which a man can be happy and perfectly free, so there is no situation in which he can be perfectly unhappy and unfree.

Levin scowled. The humiliation of his rejection stung him to the heart, as though it were a fresh wound he had only just received. But he was at home, and at home the very walls are a support.

The goal of the artist is not to solve a question irrefutably, but to force people to love life in all its countless, inexhaustible manifestations.

Are we not all flung into the world for no other purpose than to hate each other, and so to torture ourselves and one another?

Meanwhile spring arrived. My old dejection passed away and gave place to the unrest which spring brings with it, full of dreams and vague hopes and desires.

If you could forget and forgive what happened." He snatched the chalk with nervous, trembling fingers, and breaking it, wrote the initial letters of the following phrase, "I have nothing to forget and to forgive; I have never ceased to love you.

It's wrong, what you say, and I beg you, if you're a good man, to forget what you've said, as I forget it," she said at last. "Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever forget...

Another's wife is a white swan, and ours is bitter wormwood.

The feelings resembled memories; but memories of what? Apparently one can remember things that have never happened.

Let fear once get possession of the soul, and it does not readily yield its place to another sentiment. Sebastopol by Leo Tolstoy

Is it possible to love a woman who will never understand the profoundest interests of my life? Is it possible to love a woman simply for her beauty, to love the statue of a woman?

she still found no words in which she could express the complexity of her feelings; indeed, she could not even find thoughts in which she could clearly think out all that was in her soul.

As though tears were the indispensable oil without which the machinery of mutual confidence could not run smoothly between the two sister, the sisters after their tears talked, not of what was uppermost in their minds, but though they talked of outside matters, they understood each other.

They haven't an idea what happiness is; they don't know that without our love, for us there is neither happiness nor unhappiness—no life at all

Each time of life has its own kind of love.