Quotes About Emotions

We cannot afford to be afraid, and so we don't allow ourselves to sense and feel the fear within us. We lower our brows to deny it, set our jaws to defy it, and smile to deceive ourselves. But inwardly we remain scared to death.

Every chronic muscular tension in the body has associated with it sadness, fear, and anger. Since tension is a restriction of our being, it makes us sad. It also makes us angry to be so limited. And we are frightened to show our sadness or express our anger, so we stay locked in a diminished state of being and tied to our fate.

Two factors are important one is an ego that is weak or insecure. . The other factor is a flood of feeling that cannot be integrated by the ego.

if we suffer a loss of love as young children, the grief may still be in us. Children cannot properly mourn such losses because they cannot conceive of a replacement. Such a loss could be caused by the death of a parent, by loss of contact with one parent through divorce, or by parental rejection.

The child can only react by denying the loss and living in the fantasy that the parent will return with love.

Diaries are terrible liars. They record dramas out of context, encourage paranoia, rearrange facts, are deliberately biased and self-justifying, blind you with irrelevance, censor alternative opinion, exaggerate petty complaints into tragic emblems and, in particular, wallow in the fact that any fool can write about dejection, but describing happiness takes determination and skill. Most diaries are moans in writing, even when the person writing them is happy.

Most diaries are moans in writing, even when the person writing them is happy.

It's through the small things that we develop our moral imagination, so that we can understand the sufferings of others.

I think cynicism is more enduring than sentimentality.

Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom,Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!

A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead.

No woman ever hates a man for being in love with her, but many a woman hate a man for being a friend to her.

Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing, Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove, Say, is not absence death to those who love?

Oh name forever sad! forever dear!Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.

Our passions are like convulsion fits, which, though they make us stronger for a time, leave us the weaker ever after.

What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things,...

To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves.

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me, Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!) Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!

To be angry, is to revenge the fault of others upon ourselves.

Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me. (from The Universal Prayer)

No woman ever hates a man for being in love with her; but mainly a woman hates a man for being her friend.

It's a lucky man, a very lucky man, who is committed to what he believes, who has stifled intellectual detachment and can relax in the luxury of his emotions - like a tipsy traveller resting for the night at wayside inn.

depression still kept guard on him, and chased after him like a shadow - or like a faithful wife.

But whom to love? To trust and treasure? Who won't betray us in the end? And who'll be kind enough to measure Our words and deeds as we intend?