Quotes About Emotions

It's a sort of literary act of survival. I don't have many words to express myself--rather, the opposite. I'm aware of a state of deprivation. And yet, at the same time, I feel free, light. I rediscover the reason that I write, the joy as well as the need.

Every time my surroundings change I feel enormous sadness. It's not greater when I leave a place tied to memories, grief, or happiness. It's the change itself that unsettles me, just as liquid in a jar turns cloudy when you shake it. —italo svevo, essays and uncollected writings

If I want to understand what moves me, what confuses me, what pains me—everything that makes me react, in short—I have to put it into words.

She believed that he would be incapable of hurting her as Graham had.

Something happened when the house was dark. They were able to talk to each other again. The

She'd told Bela that the feeling would ebb but never fully go away. It would form part of her landscape, wherever she went. She said that her mother's absence would always be present in her thoughts. She told Bela that there would never be an answer for why she'd gone.

I have terrible urges, Mr. Kapasi, to throw things away. One day I had the urge to throw everything I own out the window, the television, the children, everything. Don't you think it's unhealthy?

Only then, forced at six months to confront his destiny, does he begin to cry.

Back then she had only wanted to shut the door to it, to be apart from Subhash and Bela. She'd been incapable of cherishing what she'd had.

But no turbulent emotions passed through me as he spoke, only a diluted version of the nauseating sensation that had taken hold the day in Bombay that I learned my mother was dying, a sensation that had dropped anchor in me and never fully left.

given that she barely saw her father, given that she continued to measure out her contact with him, whether to deny herself or to deny him, she could not be sure.

It had ended bitterly; though at the time he could never come up with a reason not to, he could not bring himself to propose. She had not taken hold of him; he could see now that that was the problem. And so he left the tears and fury in Milan and took the train down to Rome.

When I write in Italian, I think in Italian; to translate into English, I have to wake up another part of my brain. I don't like the sensation at all. I feel alienated. As if I'd run into a boyfriend I'd tired of, someone I'd left years earlier. He no longer appeals to me.

Pet names are a persistent remnant of childhood, a reminder that life is not always so serious, so formal, so complicated. They are a reminder, too, that one is not all things to all people. They

A cena faz Moushumi chorar. Ao mesmo tempo, ela fica contente de ter uma coisa tangível com a qual se aborrecer.

Something happened when the house was dark. They were able to talk to each other again.

the certain absence of certain foods on their plates conjuring his father's presence somehow.

She cries as she feeds him, and as she pats him to sleep, and as he cries between sleeping and feeding. She cries after the mailman's visit because there are no letters from Calcutta. She cries when she calls Ashoke at his department and he does not answer. One day she cries when she goes to the kitchen to make dinner and discovers that they've run out of rice.

She'd known him only a few years. Only beginning to discover who he was. But in another way she had known him practically all her life. After his death began the internal knowledge that came from remembering him, still trying to make sense of him. Of both missing and resenting him. Without that there would be nothing to haunt her. No grief.

Were her mother ever to stand before her, even if Bela could choose any language on earth in which to speak, she would have nothing to say. But no, that's not true. She remains in constant communication with her. Everything in Bela's life has been a reaction. I am who I am, she would say, I live as I do because of you.

But his father is not the type to admit such things, to speak openly of his desires, his moods, his needs.

in August to celebrate an important anniversary of her in-laws. "I wish I didn't have to go, after three days with them I start to lose it." I almost ask: Isn't that the case with your husband and kids, with your house? Isn't that why you're always traveling, why you leave them behind every other week? I don't say this. I'm fond of my friend, I let her blow off steam. The sun beats down on us and chafes the skin below my sweater.

Ambos tinham buscado conforto um no outro e em seu mundo compartilhado, talvez porque fosse uma novidade, ou por medo de que esse mundo estivesse morrendo lentamente.

It was that she had already fallen in love, and been married, and had a child, and had her heart broken. He had yet to experience any of those things.