Quotes About Emotions

Avarice, like love, has the gift of second sight, instinctively guessing at future contingencies, and hugging its presentiments.

Mor?l?s ciešanas, kas p?rsp?j fizisk?s, allaž izraisa maz?ku ž?lumu, jo cilv?ka acij nav saskat?mas.

Vouloir nous brûle et pouvoir nous détruit; mais savoir laisse notre faible organisation dans un perpétuel état de calme.

How inexplicable Parisian women are!" exclaimed Thaddeus. "When they are loved to madness they want to be loved reasonably: and when they are loved reasonably they reproach a man for not loving them at all.

The one thing that can be more disconcerting than intelligent hatred is demanding love.

Unhappy women are given to protecting their sensitiveness by cynical gossip, by whining, by high-church and new-thought religions, or by a fog of vagueness.

To give up another person's love is a mild suicide; like a very bad inoculation as compared to the full disease.

Green mountains rise to the north; white water rolls past the eastern city. Once it has been uprooted, the tumbleweed travels forever. Drifting clouds like a wanderer's mind; sunset, like the heart of your old friend. We turn, pause, look back and wave, Even our ponies look back and whine.

On the surface, I seem to be glad of new people; But doomed to leave old friends behind me, I cry out from my heart for Shin-Fêng wine To melt away my thousand woes.

Heart's fragrance is spent with the ending of spring And nothing left but a tear-stained robe.

So like it or not, the question for us, as it has always been for working women, is how will we navigate the emotional mine field of love and power, career and family?

Los niños lloran la muerte, pero los hombres y mujeres nunca lloran: se sobre ponen a ella.

How was it possible for the world to be so beautiful and so cruel at the same time?

It's what you do to yourself when you go mad with rage. You have no idea how much you can hurt yourself with your own strength.

Kemarahan dan kesedihan sama-sama sulit dipikul

O amor apaixonado não se extingue, transformando-se noutras paixões, ódio, ciúme, desilusão.

This is why human relationships usually take me beyond my limits. They wear me out. They scatter my thoughts. They make me worry about what I have just said and what they have just said, and how or if that all fits together, and what they will say next and what I will say then, and do I owe them something or is it their turn to owe me, and why do the rules change depending

on who the friend turns out to be and…well, the whole thing drives me to total distraction and anxiety.

All conflict can be traced back to someone's feelings getting hurt, don't you think?

You've been here before. It won't kill you. It feels like you can't breathe, but you actually are breathing. It feels like you'll never stop crying, but you actually will.

Marriage was a form of insanity; love hovering permanently on the edge of aggravation.

Nothing and nobody could aggravate you the way your child could aggravate you.

Each memory, good and bad, was another invisible thread that bound them together...It was as simple and complicated as that. Love after children, after you've hurt each other and forgiven each other, bored each other and surprised each other, after you've seen the worst and the best...-well, that sort of love is ineffable. It deserves its own word.

You could try as hard as you could to imagine someone else's tragedy—drowning in icy waters, living in a city split by a wall—but nothing truly hurts until it happens to you. Most of all, to your child.