Quotes About Emotions

Politeness will be a great acquisition, if it does no more than impart grace to manners; but its function does not stop here. For propriety, springing as it does from motives of benevolence and modesty, and actuated by tender feelings toward the sensibilities of others, is ever a graceful expression of sympathy. Its requirement is that we should weep with those that weep and rejoice with those that rejoice.

I am inclined to think that in one sense we have to feel more than others—yes, doubly more—since the very attempt to restrain natural promptings entails suffering. Imagine boys—and girls too—brought up not to resort to the shedding of a tear or the uttering of a groan for the relief of their feelings, and there is a physiological problem whether such effort steels their nerves or makes them more sensitive.

A mother who tries to console her broken heart by fancying her departed child absent on his wonted chase after the dragon-fly, hums, How far to-day in chase, I wonder, Has gone my hunter of the dragon-fly!

The cultivation of tender feelings breeds considerate regard for the sufferings of others. Modesty and complaisance, actuated by respect for others' feelings, are at the root of politeness.

The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears.

This is how guilt infects, if you're afraid that someone will be angry with you, you immediately start feeling angry with them.

Tell me, love, what I can't explain: Should I spend this short, horrid time with thoughts only, and alone know no love and give none? Must one think? Won't he be missed?

Spiegami, amore, quel che non so spiegare: in questo tempo breve, orribile, dovrò avere il pensiero solo per compagno? nessun affetto conoscere o creare? che uno pensi è necessario? la sua mancanza non si avverte? tu dici: un altro spirito conta su di noi... non mi spiegare. vedo la salamandra guizzare in ogni fuoco. non prova brivido e nulla le fa male

Ama an?msama dendiÄŸinde, belleÄŸim yaln?zca al???lm?? an?lar?, geride kalm??, eskitilmiÅŸ, terk edilmiÅŸ ÅŸeyleri dile getiriyorsa eÄŸer o zaman, içinde art?k beni hiçbir ÅŸeyin rahats?z etmemesi gereken bir an?lar daÄŸarc???ndan henüz uza??m, hem de çok uza??m demektir.

A single tear forms, just in the corner of one eye, but it doesn't roll down my cheek; it merely crystallizes in the cold air, it grows and grows into a second giant globe that doesn't want to orbit with the world—it breaks off from the planet and plunges into infinity.

What of those loving, accepting, understanding voices? Do you hear them? Or do you only hear what hurts?

Relationships are like glass. Sometimes it's better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting it back together.

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. ~ Buddha

And I wonder how we could possibly have ended up in this place. Why I didn't see the warning signs far enough in advance to prevent this from happening. I try to hold back the sob swooping up from deep inside me like a tsunami from the ocean floor. But I can't, and I bend forward, crying for my failures as a mother

Lambert while I'm at it." "She's

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break." ? William

That for the most part, people had the same needs, the same wants, the same desires. They wanted the best for their loved ones and grieved when life brought them short of that.

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.

It's just a fact that once we lose our parents and grandparents, no one in our lives will ever love us like that again.

But a week later she knew she had. And so she told herself it didn't matter, that she'd been foolish to think anything would come of it. The sooner she stopped thinking about him, the better off she'd be.

presence. "Just let it out, honey. You've been carrying this around for too long. It's okay to let go.

Love is not instant. Infatuation is instant. Love is a thing that begins with the most shallow of roots that reach the depths of our souls only after we've given ourselves up to the helplessness of it. And when it's true love, we are truly helpless.

But there in the middle of the crowded dance floor, his gaze held hers, said things that didn't need words for expression. The message couldn't have been more eloquent.

Does real love appear as a choice? Or does it arrive, inevitable, irresistible?