Quotes About Emotions

One can't relive one's life. Forgiveness is not what's difficult one's always too ready to forgive. And it does no good, that's obvious.

The more one is hated, I find, the happier one is.

Anger is a killing thing: it kills the man who angers, for each rage leaves him less than he had been before — it takes something from him.

The longer I live, the less I trust ideas, the more I trust emotions.

It's because his wife left him. That's why he's acting funny. She left him the other night. While she was putting her bags into the taxi he was outside on the footpath begging her to stay. On his knees! Why are men so embarrassing? Bev

Ge kunt soms gedachten hebben die niet te dragen zijn tusschen vier muurkens. Die zoo geweldig groot zijn dat ge aan uw deurken moet, of anders zou uw kop openklakken.

En als de vliegers weg zijn dan is het droefste in uw leven dat ge zooveel menschen hebt gekend, en dat ge die nooit meer zult horen of zien.

het is jammer, dat ons alleen maar feiten over de mens worden medegedeeld - wij hebben feiten teveel - het is iets anders wat we omtrent de mens verlangen te weten - onze gedachten, die vreemde, welke nog steeds de oorsprong zijn van ons onbegrijpelijke gedrag.

For all their differences, holy rollers and Ghost Dancers had much in common. Americans who took up holiness sought to free the spirit by lifting the heavy hand of scientific rationalism and engaging emotionally with Christ . . . Parallel ideas circulated in the Ghost Dance, which advanced bodily healing and cultural resurgence through spirit intervention.

You need a reason to be sad. You don't need a reason to be happy.

The best morals kids get from any book is just the capacity to empathize with other people, to care about the characters and their feelings. So you don't have to write a preachy book to do that. You just have to make it a fun book with characters they care about, and they will become better people as a result.

No machine can replace the human spark: spirit, compassion, love and understanding.

All I knew was that hate was so deadly as any poison and did no one any good. You had to control and eliminate it, if you could.

Before, as much as the hate poisoned me, I think it gave me a kind of satisfaction. I believed hating was the same as getting even, but those I hated didn't even know my feelings. All I did was destroy myself with my hate.

For the first time in my life the beautiful story made clear sense. I began to cry, overwhelmed by the emotion. For many years the Bible had been a mystery to me, but now it was an open book. This was the clincher: how could I suddenly understand the Bible when I never could before? How often had I picked it up and put it down because I couldn't make heads or tails of what it was all about? But with the Holy Spirit as my interpreter, the meanings were obvious.

Everything's such an effort, even caring a little. Even being such a gigantic fuck-up wears me out.

I am angry nearly every day of my life, but I have learned not to show it; and I still try to hope not to feel it, though it may take me another forty years to do it.

I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo, but I have learned not to show it; and I still hope to learn not to feel it, though it may take me another forty years to do so.

for love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride.

Your typical Six-year-old is a paradoxical little person, and bipolarity is the name of his game.

Fives feel so close to their mothers that they sometimes overestimate her ability to read their minds. They are often quick and a little impatient and don't always give all the necessary clues as to what they are talking about. Then they tend to be quite angry if she doesn't pick up on their story at once. It takes a quick wit to be a mother.

Eight-year-olds are quite normally all mixed up with their mothers. The mother-child relationship at this age is one of the strongest, deepest, most demanding, and yet most tangled to date.

Goodbye, goodbye! There was so much to love, I could not love it all; I could not love it enough.

At midnight tears Run into your ears.