Quotes About Emotions

People still mourn when people die. That's self-sympathy. All human beings are selfish to a certain extent, and that's why people get so sad when someone dies. They haven't finished using him. The person who is dead ain't crying. Sadness is for when a baby is born into this heavy world, and joy should be exhibited at someone's death because they are going on to something more permanent and infinitely better.

The story of life is quicker than the blink of an eye. The story of love is Hello and Goodbye. Until we meet again.......

Diana wept a tear after we made love and said, My Earthly darling, I must bid you farewell… She could have been my wife, But her time, I didn't dare wish to waste.

It wasn't…too long ago. But it feels like…years ago…since I felt…the warm hello of the sun. Lately things seem a little colder, the wind…it seems to get a little bolder. The eagle was flying…now it's on the run. But then again, it's all in my mind. Ever since I lost that glow I've been feeling so down all the time. Where's that girl of mine…

Sticks and stones can't break my soul But words, they seem to sometimes harm me— Maybe it's because I'm forever hungry— ...for the truth of love.

Oh, love is nice if it's understood, It's even nicer when you're feeling good. You got me flipping like a flag on a pole, Come on, sugar, let the good times roll.

Some of its magic, Some of its tragic…But I had a good life all the way

People, she sneered, were not meant to be as happy as you make them. … People were meant to be as happy as you make them.

Some of it's magic, some of it's tragic, but I've had a good life all the way.

EMOTIONALLY UNHEALTHY PEOPLE ARE LIKE HEAT-SEEKING MISSILES. THEY HAVE A WAY OF FINDING EACH OTHER.

ANGRY AND EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE Anger and emotional instability ruled King Saul. He suffered from demon-inspired fits of rage to the point that he would try to kill David. Saul once tried to pin him against a wall with a spear (1 Samuel 18:11). We all feel anger, but when it controls our lives, then it becomes an opportunity for the devil.

Regardless of how you feel, don't let your emotions lead you to wrong decisions

Katie shook her head in dismay. "I thought being poor was the worst thing that could happen to a girl." "No, Katie," the countess said in a clear voice. "The worst thing is to be in love with one man and have to marry another." —Katie O'Reilly to the Countess of Marbury

We are so lonely here, with only our loved ones for company. We kill, maim, insult our loved ones, or dream of doing so, to keep from going mad. And then disaster strikes. God, how we love disaster.

Fiction, when it's done right, does in the daylight what dreams do at night: we leave the confines of our own experiences and go to common ground, where for a time we are not alone. Where we don't have to ask how it feels, because we feel it for ourselves.

que a gente carece de fingir às vezes que raiva tem, mas raiva mesma nunca se deve de tolerar de ter. Porque, quando se curte raiva de alguém, é a mesma coisa que se autorizar que essa própria pessoa passe durante o tempo governando a ideia e o sentir da gente; o que isso era falta de soberania, e farta bobice, e fato é.

Don't throw tantrums; that's unprofessional.

Once when I asked you if you still loved your wife, you said, Love leaves the back door open. Later, you said, Love like a hospital gown opens at the back. And you slipped out.

I need sex for a clear complexion, but I'd rather do it for love.

You have your wonderful memories, people said later, as if memories were solace. Memories are not. Memories are by definition of times past, things gone. Memories are the Westlake uniforms in the closet, the faded and cracked photographs, the invitations to the weddings of the people who are no longer married, the mass cards from the funerals of the people whose faces you no longer remember. Memories are what you no longer want to remember.

The death of a parent, he wrote, "despite our preparation, indeed, despite our age, dislodges things deep in us, sets off reactions that surprise us and that may cut free memories and feelings that we had thought gone to ground long ago. We might, in that indeterminate period they call mourning, be in a submarine, silent on the ocean's bed, aware of the depth charges, now near and now far, buffeting us with recollections.

It was once suggested to me that, as an antidote to crying, I put my head in a paper bag. As it happens, there is a sound physiological reason, something to do with oxygen, for doing exactly that, but the psychological effect alone is incalculable: it is difficult in the extreme to continue fancying onceself Cathy in Wuthering Heights with one's head in a Food Fair bag.

Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life. Virtually everyone who has ever experienced grief mentions this phenomenon of "waves.

Mourning has its place but also its limits.