Quotes About Emotions

there is nothing more intoxicating for a depressed person with an alcoholic parent in his past than being told you are loved and wanted.

Depressed people have an urge to make good things into ugly messes to better match their state of mind.

it makes sense when you think about the confluence of puberty hormones, stress from academics and the emergence of primitive appalling forms of dating, depression starts in your junior high.

Each one of us is the custodian of an inner world that we carry around with us.

Love is not something you save and hoard. You're born with it and you spend it when you have to and there's always more because you're a woman and there's always suffering and pain and gentleness and sadness to make it grow.

God gave you a brain and a heart. The heart is warm, but your wits must be cold.

All men are fools when it comes to love,' the doctor murmured.

Every heart is much the same, We tell ourselves down here, The same chambers fed by veins, The same maze of love and fear.

Men are more evanescent than pictures, yet one sorrows for lost friends, and pictures are my friends. I have none others. I am never long enough with men to attach myself to them; and whatever feelings of attachment I have are to material things.

All violent feelings have the same effect. They produce in us a falseness in all our impressions of external things.

Overcome by his feelings, the Parisian threw himself upon the ground, exclaiming, in an agony of tears La bonne reine ! la pauvre reine ! Presently he sprang up, exclaiming, Cependant, Monsieur, il faut vous faire voir mon petit chien danser. This contrast, though natural in a Parisian, was unnatural in the nature of things, and therefore injurious.

But the laughter was like a water bug on a pond, skating across the surface of his mind. He was amused and he laughed, but nothing was deeply funny; life was simply stupid most of the time.

Felt the dark finger of hypocrisy stroking his soul.

depression was to be feared—and he could feel it sniffing around outside his door, looking for a way in.

argued that depression is a terrible word for the affliction. Should be called something like mindstorm. Still, Lucas's intuition told him that mindstorms didn't just show up: they needed something to chew on.

Death had a strange effect on the left-behind people. Some found peace and a new life; some clutched the death to their breasts.

She doesn't love you. She loves herself. I mean, you're not going to be able to compete with that.

Osborne said. "I miss Mom, though. That didn't have to happen. The guy who killed her . . . If I knew who it was, I'd think about killing him myself." "Not what you usually want to tell a couple of cops," Jenkins said. "Now if he gets run over by a car, people are going to be looking at your front bumper." "Okay, so I'll back over him," Osborne said.

Janey. A problem. He liked her, but only for a couple of hours at a time.

smiled and the smile even touched her normally cool eyes. She said, "Lucas. I never had a chance to thank you. You saved my life—you and Dan. You as much as Dan.

They were the kind of people whose unhappiness tended to become your unhappiness, to say nothing of your screaming agony.

He realized he was having a hard time recognizing that Marcy was gone, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, and that killing Fell would not answer the problem he was having with her death, would not bring her back, and could have devastating consequences for himself and his family. The little man at the back of his mind could whisper all of that to him: and yet, that realization had little effect on the urge for revenge.

emotional state, or need for respite?

Part of what makes us human is what we mean to other people, and what people mean to us. I miss meaning something to someone, having that part of being human.