Quotes About Emotions

So many therapists tell their patients how to think and how to feel. That is awfully wrong" (Erickson, Rossi, and Rossi 1976, 101).

Mobs have passions, not brains.

Three great obstacles to progress: guilt, envy, and resentment.

The GAP is a habit. It's a habit we can fall into literally hundreds of times per day. We can spend hours each day in the GAP—unhappy, resentful, regretful.

If we were logical, the future would be bleak indeed. But we are more than logical. We are human beings, and we have faith, and we have hope, and we can work.

Unsaid So much of what we live goes on inside- The diaries of grief, the tounge-tied aches Of unacknowledged love are no less real. For having passed unsaid What we conceal Is always more than we dare confide. Think of the letters we write our dead.

I'm a patient man, but I'm not going to wait endlessly." "But...," She stammered. "But what?" "It's so fast." He growled. "When I went slow, you wanted fast. Now I'm going fast, you want slow. Luanne Mayfair, are you trying to drive me crazy on purpose, or is it just a lucky side benefit as far as you're concerned?

What anger wants, it buys at the price of soul.

Her hand jerked, leaving an angry slash in the middle of the canvas. A headache drummed to life in the back of her skull. It's not going to happen today. She ignored the shiver that skipped down her spine. This is a normal day. I'm painting a normal composition. But it was too late. It was happening already. She squeezed her eyes shut against the images flooding her brain, but no resistance would help now. She couldn't escape.

I've learned through experience that life is never that bad. The secret is just paying attention to how you feel and not letting anyone else dictate what in your heart you know is right.

Your emotional state has a tremendous amount to do with sickness, health and well-being. For years, my husband and I lived on -- and because of -- hope. Hope continues to give me the mental strength to carry on.

I'd watched enough TV in the lonely afternoons after school, before there was a cheese shop to go to, to know that there were boys who lied, who knew how to say just the right thing or give you just the right look. Boys who could make you feel a way you thought you didn't deserve to feel.

I was not boy crazy. Really, I wasn't. But I was lonely, I guess.

The door was open; I stepped in. A ghost town with a ghost theater, yet the former grandness still evident, the gold wallpaper peeling, the velvet seats in attendant rows, though ripped and ruined. Why did I cry? Not because it was a wreck, but because I felt the history.

I need these records because one day, years from now, I will listen to this music and I will remember exactly what it was like to be me now, or me a year ago, at fifteen, totally inhabited by this work, in this very specific place and time.

He'd found her weeping one day the previous week, huddled over a much-thumbed copy of a mystery, one of a series. In this one the heroine's lover had died. She took it as a personal affront—"I can't believe she did that! How could she do that?"—and threw the book across the room, only to retrieve it a moment later and force him to listen to her read the death scene out loud.

My mother says that falling in love and getting dumped is good for you because it prepares you for the real thing, like it gets you ready for true love and all, but I'm thinking it's more like climbing up he St. Louis Arch and falling off twice. Does he first fall really get you ready for the second?

When others are happy, be happy with them. If they are sad, share their sorrow. —Romans 12:15

then, the tears spilled over and began to drip quietly down her cheeks. Without a word, he pulled her close, rubbing her back as she buried her face against his chest and quiet sobs shook her. Then he lifted his gaze and looked out to sea—where the wind raced, where the horizon stretched empty, and where somewhere, a grieving father was surely missing his capricious daughter.

He can make me laugh when all I want to do is cry. He can make me see the good in a situation when all I see is the bad. He knows when life should be taken seriously — and when it shouldn't. He's delightful and funny and clever — and not afraid to make a total cake of himself."

He had a rich, deep baritone voice, and he knew how to use it. To drown out all thoughts. To drown out other voices. To drown out sounds that she didn't want him to hear, to drown out sounds he knew she didn't want him to hear—

And I love you, Gray. I'm sorry I've made your life . . . difficult." "Difficult? You have made it a veritable hell! But it has been quite an adventure, I grant you that. I would not have had it otherwise.

the only thing tears ever brought a person were wrinkles before their time.

I didn't do anything wrong, Gray. I merely saved your life, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Her throat tightened and she blinked back sudden tears. I'd do it again in a heartbeat because, dammit, I love you.