Quotes About Emotions

I've lied / to you The same way that I always do This is / the last smile That I'll fake for the sake of being with you

Your anger is like the bubbles in a can of soda. The more you're shaken, the more you want to let it out. The longer you keep it in though, the greater the size of the eventual explosion - and the flatter the drink at the end.

Even the people who never frown eventually break down

The very worst part of you is me.

When i look into your eyes There's nothing there to see Nothing but my own mistakes Staring back at me Asking whyyyy?!?!

I got a heart full of pain, head full of stress, handfull of anger, held in my chest.

I don't know what stressed me first Or how the pressure was fed But I know just what it feels like To have a voice in the back of my head

Clutching my cure I tightly lock the door I try to catch my breath again I hurt much more Than anytime before I had no options left again

I'm losing what i don't deserve..

Why were all the handsome ones always such bastards?

The Christian use of religion as a personal love affair both shocked me, and attracted me.

In my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times.

He wasn't mad, he was sad.

He was already intuiting that attachment - if only to a squirt gun - made him vulnerable.

A carpet of despair which lay underneath the levels of fury.

How much did you care about anything that went on in my head until it got out?

So when I said I'd miss him, I meant I would miss what we had not experienced, and I don't know what that's called: nostalgia for what didn't happen.

I seem to remember even from when I was very young that when you loved someone you also hated them for making you love them, since loving someone is so incredibly humiliating.

Though it may be more romantic to picture the bereaved as gaunt, I imagine you can grieve as efficiently with chocolates as with tap water.

He looks uncomfortable, and in this respect the garb is apt. Kevin is uncomfortable; the tiny clothing replicates the same constriction that he feels in his own skin.

Thus even tragedy can be accompanied by a trace of relief. The discovery that heartbreak is indeed heartbreaking consoles us about our humanity.

I'd get this, I luuuuuuuv you, buddy! stuff, and I'd just look at him like, Who are you talking to, guy? What does that mean, your dad 'loves' you and hasn't a [bleep]ing clue who you are? What's he love then? Some kid in Happy Days. Not me.

Still, I may have been glad to scratch the dry surface of our day-to-day peaceableness the way Violetta had clawed the sere crust on her limbs, anything to get something bright and liquid flowing again, out in the open and slippery between our fingers.

Presenting emotions as facts-which they are-affords a fragile defense.