Quotes About Emotions

We don't get over losing the dogs who have been a part of our lives. We just get used to living without them.

Wanting Kate was one thing. Sex was simple. Or it could be. But liking her? Enjoying spending time with her? Allowing her into his private life, as Brody had tonight, albeit at his sisters' invitation? It would lead to nothing but trouble.

Love's not what makes the world go around.

Dex: You're my wife. I love you. Rosarita: Sometimes love isn't enough.

Why is it that you can bear pain, but someone's kindness makes you cry?

You get through bad things - I know, enough bad things have happened to me already. But I don't think getting through one bad time makes it any easier to deal with the next one. If anything, it's worse, because there is happiness to remember.

With life came loss. The war and the years since had taught her that. There's be sadness in her life to come, as well as happiness. Even the most blessed lives had both. She'd live them as they came.

I waved and cried and smiled at the same time like Mum and Mrs Mack, so Sandy and Jeff remember us smiling not sobbing as they left.

You know every story, every wound, every memory. Their whole life's happiness is wrapped up in you... every single second. Don't you get it? Look down the road to her wedding. I'm in a room alone with her, fixing her veil, fluffing her dress, telling her no woman has ever looked so beautiful. And my fear is she'll be thinking, "I wish my mom was here.

When the love of your life dies, the problem is not that some part of you dies too, which it does, but that some part of you is still alive.

Weather here in this part of the world is just as moody, just as subjective and disloyal, as people.

They never tell you about that either. How the hardest thing a mother has to do is give her child up, let them go, watch them run.

I've started to feel very odd within my own life. It's most peculiar to feel lonely inside your own life.

I've never seen grief like it. Grief like that, it's like an animal. She's not eating. She's not sleeping. She's whimpering. She's sluggish. She's not herself

Expectations are pre-meditated resentment.8

Missy shoved the thoughts and feelings down into their prison of the glass jar. Only once the lid was sealed tight did she release her breath.

When I cut, I'm the one controlling the pain. I know where it's coming from. I know that it's me who's doing it, me and no one else.

Nightmares do not interest her. She seeks only beauty, though sadness charms her, for often the deepest beauty can be found residing in sadness.

she had placed her husband's cell phone, fully charged, inside the casket . . . and that she had called and left him messages for months after.

So what I do, more than play any instrument - I mean, I love to play - but more than that, I write songs. Songs that are about living, about what it's like to be going through all the things that people go through in life.

The world is made of more than particles. It's made of things you can't hold in your hand, like fear, love, loss, hope, truth.

Well, this might sound stupid but I think he was my best friend. Like the other half of me. I'm so scared something might have happened to him when he went back. I miss him so much sometimes I look at windows and I want to just walk right through them -- like press myself through the glass. I want their sharp edges to fragment me.

Here come the colours of Madeleine, thought Jack, and the colours went right through his bloodstream now, sailing on tiny boats — spinnakers fixed with little toothpicks.

You've loved with intensity and passion, and have learned to hide your heartache, learned to press your handkerchief back into your pocket and pretend that you are okay.