Quotes About Emotions

O,speak to me no more;these words like daggers enter my ears.(a fancy way of saying SHUT UP!) — William Shakespeare hamlet

Do all men kill all the things they do not love? Shylock: Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Bassanio: Every offence is not a hate at first.

Who can be wise, amazed, temp'rate, and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.

I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go.

Have not we affections and desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I, being governed by the watery moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world.

Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.

All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.

I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

Thou canst not speak of thou dost not feel.

Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know / When though didst hate him worst, thou loved'st him better / Than ever thou loved'st Cassius.

cayó en la melancolía, luego en la inapetencia, de allí en el insomnio, de éste en el abatimiento, más tarde en el delirio y, por esta fatal pendiente, en la locura, que ahora le hace desvariar y que todos lamentamos.

How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!

The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past.

She smiled with so sweet a cheer That had Narcissus seen her as she stood Self-love had never drowned him in the flood

Laughing Faces Do Not Mean That There Is Absence Of Sorrow! But It Means That They Have The Ability To Deal With It

She is your treasure, she must have a husband; I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day And for your love to her lead apes in hell. Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep Till I can find occasion of revenge.

Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, Which gives some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.

But you are wise, Or else you love not, for to be wise and love Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.

There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

But I am bound upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears do scald like moulten lead.

This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, this Senior Junior, giant dwarf...Cupid.

Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding.