Quotes About Emotions

People thought that tragedy made you wise, that it automatically elevated you to a higher, more spiritual level, but it seemed to Rachel that just the opposite was true. Tragedy made you petty and spiteful. It didn't give you any great knowledge or insight.

nothing truly hurts until it happens to you. Most of all, to your child.

He was surprised to find himself close to tears, because it occurred to him that if he were to die, Ray would be snatched up like a too-good-to-be-true deal at the supermarket, and someone else could very easily love him the way he deserved to be loved.

Happy endings always made her cry. It was the relief. "Would

Do you know the only difference between fear and excitement is the exhalation? When you're afraid, you hold the air in the top part of your lungs. You need to exhale. Like this. Ahhhh. Like that sound people make after a firework explodes.

It is just that there is no time to feel things any more.

Falling in love was easy. Anyone could fall. It was holding on that was tricky.

Did she love him as much as she hated him? Did she hate him as much as she loved him? "We

It felt like another loss. Each time he thought he was doing well, avoiding the hope. Each time he told himself: I have no expectations, but with each new failure it hurt so much he understood the hope had been there after all, flitting seductively around his subconscious. It didn't get easier either. It got worse. A cumulative effect. Loss upon loss.

Afterward she felt seedy and sexy and disheveled and filled with despair.

Think of your worst pre-match nerves. Except there's no match. It's just Tuesday morning. That's how it feels to be me.

how could you watch someone floss one minute, and the next minute share your deepest passion or most ridiculous, trite little fears?

Oh for Christ's sake, now she is crying over some imaginary cheerful lady.

Erika shrugged. The movement of her shoulders felt unnatural. She wasn't going to tell him what she'd overheard. It would only upset him. And it shamed her. She didn't want Oliver to know that her closest friend didn't really care for her.

There's a difference between heartbroken and damaged," said Ed. "You were sad and hurt. Maybe your heart was broken, but you weren't broken.

It sometimes seemed so peculiar and wrong to her that you could be that intimate with someone, to go to sleep with him and wake up with him, to do really quite extraordinarily personal things together on a regular basis, and then, suddenly, you don't even know his telephone number, or where he's living or working, or what he did today or last week or last year.

It is so strange that you can end up having such polite, awkward conversations with somebody with whom you once shared such intimate moments.

She quite liked this aspect of her personality: the way her mood could change from melancholy to euphoric because of a breeze or a flavor or a beautiful chord progression. It meant she never had to feel too down about feeling down.

It was just that there were so many different levels of "comfortable," and at Celeste's level no electricity bill could make her cry.

if she thought about that too much and all it implied she could tap into a great well of rage, so she didn't think about it. That was the secret of a happy marriage: step away from the rage.

She could shrink her fears down into innocuous little status updates that drifted away on the news feeds of her friends.

Marriage was a form of insanity; love hovering permanently on the edge of aggravation. Connor would be asleep now, in his neat apartment smelling of garlic and laundry

Now, for one day every month, she had to fake everything: her basic humanity, her love for her children, her love for Ed. She'd once been appalled to hear of women claiming PMS as a defense for murder. Now she understood. She could happily murder someone today!

Sometimes she exhausted herself.