Quotes About Emotions

neither of them has yet learned to accept hard necessity without making it worse by regret. That's a vital lesson, Miri. Regret is not productive. Nor is guilt, nor grief.

Gail smiled. "A gracious concession. We're not much alike, dear heart." "Nothing alike." "So why—" "Oh, God, not this," Nan said. "Every lover I've ever had has run this program on me eventually. 'Why us?' Why not? And don't go thinking that by that I mean we're just a one night's roll-and-tickle, Gail. I like you. I just don't want to analyze why. Ask me something else.

Law is not theater. Before we write laws reflecting gaudy and dramatic feelings, we must be very sure we understand the difference.

can acknowledge and recognize your feelings—to yourself and to others—but you have a choice of when, where, and whether to express your feelings or to act on them.

Lorsque nous omettons de voir la main de Dieu dans nos situations, ou lorsque nous nous révoltons contre sa volonté dans notre vie, nous devenons vulnérables à la dépression émotionnelle et spirituelle.

3: I can't wear my heart on my sleeve or it'll be crushed.

Feelings have their own kind of wisdom.

Many patients are so terrified of emotional intimacy that they are driven over and over again to provoke crises that allow them to distance with impunity (see Hedges, 2000).

There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

Please don't be depressed: nothing is sad about you except your sadness...

I never cry at the theatre. It seems to me that I feel things far too deeply, too deep down in my heart, to---to splash on top!

I love children, especially when they cry, for then someone takes them away.

always either on a peak of happiness or drowning in black waters of despair they loved or they loathed, they lived in a world of superlatives

She was filled with a strange, wild, unfamiliar happiness, and knew that this was love. Twice in her life she had mistaken something else for it; it was like seeing somebody in the street who you think is a friend, you whistle and wave and run after him, but it is not only not the friend, but not even very like him. A few minutes later the real friend appears in view, and then you can't imagine how you ever mistook that other person for him.

The worst of being a Communist is the parties you may go to are - well - awfully funny and touching but not very gay...I don't see the point of sad parties, do you? And Left-wing people are always sad because they mind dreadfully about their causes, and the causes are always going so badly.

One's emotions are intensified in Paris—one can be more happy and also more unhappy here than in any other place. But it is always a positive source of joy to live here, and there is nobody so miserable as a Parisian in exile from his town.

And though many women might enjoy the offering of such compliments, I did not want him to love me based on temporal things like a smile or voice or presence, things that could vanish through mood or an unexpected cloud. He must love me for the sake of love alone . . .

I reached for the notebook which was always close by. All thoughts of composing epic poems of Greek heroes had left me. The words that often burst from my onto the paper in recent days would be considered mere nothings to the world, but they were everything to me . . . They were the pourings of my heart FOR my heart . . .

But his letters . . . I took them with me, let the "ounces" cry aloud. I tried to leave, and could not. They would not be left; it was not my fault. I will not be scolded.

Better for my heart to be untested then to experience a counterfeit to this love we have between us.

I imagined an impulsive Robert taking Henrietta's hands and proclaiming, "I love your sister dearly. Madly. We are betrothed.

The meanderings of the heart and mind are fickle and are often wont to be withdrawn or amended.

If I cry, it's about the personal loss of a friend or something like that. But when it comes to politics - no, I don't cry.

In order to grieve—I needed to "unlearn" the way I learned to ignore my agony.