Quotes About Emotions

The Eskimo has fifty-two names for snow because it is important to them; there ought to be as many for love.

Love's never a fair trade.

The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love.

Love blurs your vision; but after it recedes, you can see more clearly than ever. It's like the tide going out, revealing whatever's been thrown away and sunk: broken bottles, old gloves, rusting pop cans, nibbled fishbodies, bones. This is the kind of thing you see if you sit in the darkness with open eyes, not knowing the future.

Today's word was interminable , meaning never-ending. Like his loneliness. Like the love he felt for Kate. Like the awful hurt that wouldn't go away.

Women's Tongues are as sharp as two-edged Swords, and wound as much, when they are anger'd.

Try to love someone who you want to hate, because they are just like you, somewhere inside, in a way you may never expect, in a way that resounds so deeply within you that you cannot believe it.

I have so much hate that it has turned into love.

Life is a tragedy for those who feel and a comedy for those who think.

We didn't get along, but he convinced me we did. He made me think that I had a fear of intimacy, when in reality I just hated his goddamn guts.

He watched their faces, and he knew each meant desperately what she said because they loved each other, and deep inside surely each knew the words were false, that the true words were those unspoken.

for an incestuous friendship will outlive, as I have discovered, any passionate love.

I mean, he told me that the shittiness of Warren having another girlfriend paled in comparison to the epic shittiness of your shitty husband

The Eskimos had 52 names for snow because it was important to them; there ought to be as many for love.

But all through the evening every time I looked at him I'd find his blue eyes fixed on me, with that naked look one can't help recognizing, and can't help remembering either that one has a certain power and occasionally men are vulnerable to it, and sometimes one ends up hurting them. But when it's happening it all seems worth it, and in the end too: however it ends I think, as far as I can tell so far, it still stays worth it.

Sometimes we need to give space for grief in order to make room for joy. No one is immune to sorrow, and only those who learn to grieve well can recapture the healing it brings. Just as light needs darkness, so joy needs grief.

You break my heart or hers, and I'll cut yours out.

I loved him so, even his past was precious to me. I found myself kissing each mark, thinking, I would have had it never happen, I would wish it away, taking him further and further back to a time when he had known no disappointments, no battles, no wounds, as I erased each one. To make him again like Caesarion. Yet if we take the past away from those we love - even to protect them - do we not steal their very selves?

I was ever the realist, sometimes to my sorrow. But seldom to my regret.

When a woman who has much to say says nothing, her silence can be deafening.

So we troop out to the coast, and every time we meet someone from back home we fall on their necks and weep. Stupid, eh? Neither of them think it is stupid. You Can't Go Home Again, said Thomas Wolfe. Morag wonders now if it may be the reverse which is true. You have to go home again, in some way or other.

Because they don't know [the anger is] there inside them. [...] They think they are sweet reasonableness, and it's you that's in the wrong, just by being, and not being like them, or looking like them, or wanting their kind of life.

And now the sound comes toward us: bassy, crackly, like a fireworks display that never lets up. The sound goes right through you, and if you have become too emotionally involved in the space program, this sound will make you cry. It's the sound of American exploration, the sound of missiles put to better use than killing or threatening to kill, a sound that means we came in peace for all mankind.

Silence make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying, but the never needing to say that counts.