Quotes About Emotions

No I have not," Nelson bites out, irritation in his voice. "She's devastated by all of this." "And so she ran off to Vermont and left you to be devastated alone," Elsa rebuttals. "Such love.

and I drown in them, live in them

Broken" from the band Life-house fills the room, because Chris doesn't know how personal it is to me. I'm falling apart. I'm barely breathing. I'm barely holding on to you. This song, this place with the words, and I am raw

many of the wrong things in common to be more than sex, and the realization is freedom to me.

It was an intensely lonely moment, like all of eighth grade condensed into one claustrophobic second.

And when I look at my mother, I reflect on her strength and endurance. She's cranky sometimes, but she is lovable and loving. I'd be happy to be there at 86.

Because the thing about love is that we can't control whether we get it, but we can control whether we give it.

In our country we call this type of mother love teng ai. My son has told me that in men's writing it is composed of two characters. The first means pain; the second means love. That is a mother's love.

I've come to believe that part of lovesickness comes from this conflict between control and desire. In love we have no control. Our hearts and minds are tormented, teased, enticed and delighted by the overwhelming strength of emotions that make us try to forget the real world.

They did this to me. They did that to me. A woman who thinks that way will never overcome her anger. You are not being punished for your anger. You're being punished by your anger.

I am still learning about love. I thought I understood it--not just mother love, but the love for one's parents, for one's husband, and for one's laotong. I've experienced the other types of love--pity love, respectful love and gratitude love. But looking at our secret fan with its messages written between Snow Flower and me over many years, I see that I didn't value the most important love--deep-heart love.

I was touched by the millennial madness.

Rodolfo lifted Alessandra's hand to his lips and kissed it. 'I have loved you, Alessandra. Do not forget that. Thank you...thank you for loving me.' She wept, curling her head in toward his good shoulder. 'Do not leave me, Rodolfo. Do not leave us. Chiara...and the baby...

Without sorrow, 'tis difficult to know the full threshold of joy.

It's hard to let go of objects because they are full of stories...They speak to us of the life we had, and the lives we never knew...We can, in fact, never be free of our stuff until we have dealt with the stories it carries. In the end, it does indeed tell us something about who we are.

Love accepts. Forgiveness comes in time.

Motherhood was an ever widening circle of good-byes.

In the end, I cared about him so much that I just thought he deserved someone who loved him more than I did.

You [meaning mothers] said good-bye a little every day -- from the minute they left your body until they left your home.

I'm hosting weekend retreats all over America. It is like a 24-hour slumber party for moms. We laugh, eat, play games, get massages, win prizes, talk about parenting and even cry a bit.

I always assume people's behaviors are a reaction to something I've done, not that they're just doing their thing.

It's strange how you can feel guilty for a family history you didn't have anything to do with, isn't it?

The depth of my love for him, of my need for him poured over me, both painful and sweet, both comforting and frightening. If anything happened to him, I didn't know how I would keep going.

When I'm with him, I feel like a completely different person. I like the way this person feels. And then I wonder - is this the person I really am? How can you know for certain what parts of yourself are authentic and what parts you've invented to make life bearable?