Quotes About Emotions

We cannot forget joy. No matter how deep our rage and pain.

Sahara's jaw set in a stubborn line familiar to him from her childhood. "You may carry his genes," she said, "but you are not and never will be Enrique's son." A passionate negation that vibrated with cold fury. "If you were, you wouldn't find pleasure in touching me with care, only in causing me pain." Pressing her fingers to his lips, she shook her head. "You're Kaleb. That is your identity.

So you love her still?" She found herself asking. "Who?" "The vampire. Shamiya." His hand squeezed her calf in gentle reproof."A silly question, cher. You know love cannot survive where there is no light.

I don't want the … issues between us"—raging sexual arousal fused with the red haze of the anger that licked the air—"to bleed over into our working relationship. Let's agree to stay out of each other's way as much as possible, and be polite when it's not.

Don't worry. There's a manual—it began with information about intimate physical interaction, but now has a growing section on emotional connection and how to nurture it.

Love is no rose. It's a goddamn weed that digs its roots in so deep, there's no hope of getting it out.

I'm scared all the time," he admitted, bracing his hands on the counter. "I know he's powerful, I've seen him in battle, and yet the fear crushes me." "Of course it does." Elena let her wing overlap his. "That's what it means to love someone.

Face falling, her sister pushed a crumb around her plate. 'I feel dumb now. I shouldn't have called you—I know you must be sad and busy because of the Falling.' She squashed the crumb, staring at it as if it were the most important thing on the planet.

I can't bury someone I love again. Not ever." He pressed his lips to hers. "Please don't make me, Holly.

Tammy's eyes widened. "Oh, my God, Dorian, it's not only lust, is it? You're starting to fall for her. She matters." Tammy was wrong, Dorian thought, looking out and into the yard again. The truth was, he'd already fallen for her.

Words weren't always easy when things mattered.

amaban los arcángeles como los humanos? ¿O sus sentimientos eran más profundos, de esos que arrancaban sangre al corazón?

His emotional state is irrelevant." Raphael's face was brutal in its repudiation. "It's because of him that you didn't have what you needed to heal as a child.

No buts, nothing. You have the ability to piss me off without even trying, but I'll fucking take a gun to my head before I lay a hand on you. You clear on that?

These people are hurt, Mother. You understand pain, and you understand how to be kind. That's what they need.

It was a fear sad and terrible in what it demanded from her . . . and beautiful in what it said of who he was to her.

A dark god. And she knew that thought was her own. Because the very thing that repelled her about Raphael also attracted her. Power.

Let me share a secret with you, Zach. Men have been telling women things for centuries. Then they've been breaking our hearts." ... "Only way," Mercy continued, "for you to gain her trust might be to forget the pride that seems to come embedded in the Y chromosome. You ready to wear your heart on your sleeve and hope she doesn't crush the life out of it?" He met her gaze. "You got a streak of mean in you, Mercy." "Thank you very much."

Do you truly feel nothing?" she whispered. "Are you without fractures?" "It's better this way." His eyes kissed her with frost. "The day I feel is the day I die.

I didn't almost kill myself when I went 'caveman,'" he said, his kiss hard and hot and possessive, all of it spiced with molten anger. "I didn't make you watch as I did my best to cause myself mortal harm.

A civil war that has awakened a whispering understanding in the populace about the ugly irony of Silence: in creating a society that rewards lack of emotion, the Psy have created fertile ground for the rise of psychopathic personalities to the leadership of their race. An individual who feels nothing is, after all, the perfect graduate of Silence. Ruthless. Cold-blooded. Without mercy . . . without conscience.

Love has many guises, Thea. Sometimes it's a stroke of lightning as it was for your father, other times a slow building storm as it was for me, but the one thing that never changes is that it must be nurtured. You can't kick a heart and expect it not to flinch.

You can yell at me all you want. It makes me feel like I'm useful for something.

Sometimes, you have to let people be sad. At least until they're ready to come out of that sadness.