Quotes About Emotions

Without noticing, I slip into a light yet lingering malaise. Not a depression, more like a fascination of melancholia, which I turn in my hand as if it were a small blue planet, streaked in shadow, impossibly blue.

What is the heart but a small hand of agonies?

Is it bad when you refer to all alcohol as "Pain Go Bye-Bye Juice"?

You know, sitting in the car when they got back in and - first of all, it was relief. I was not - there were two get away cars or switch cars they were called. And, you know, the group tended to include everyone.

Nothing is more dangerous than science without poetry or technical progress without emotional content," wrote Houston Stewart Chamberlain, a German philosopher.

Farewell sadnessGood morning sadness.

It had been many months since I'd shed tears for Tomaso, but grief is like that. It's not a continuous process; it comes in waves. You can keep it at bay for a time, like a dam holding back a lake, but them something triggers an explosion inside of you, shattering the wall and letting loose a flood.

Betty died of a broken heart. Some people laugh when they hear that phrase, but that's because they don't know anything about the world. People die of broken hearts. It happens every day, and it will go on happening to the end of time.

Dismantling the architecture of my discontent

Bodies count, of course - they count more than we're willing to admit - but we don't fall in love with bodies, we fall in love with each other. We all know that, but the moment we go beyond a catalogue of surface qualities and appearances, words begin to fail us, to crumble apart in mystical confusions and cloudy, unsubstantial metaphors.

If you look into someone's face long enough, eventually you're going to feel that you're looking at yourself.

feelings were always feelings, subjectively true one hundred percent of the time...

Guilt kept me going. It was impossible not to blame myself for what had happened, but even guilt was a comfort. It was a human feeling, a sign that I was still attached to the same world that other men lived in.

But suddenly, after all this time, I feel there is something to say, and if I don't quickly write it down, my head will burst. It doesn't matter if you read it. It doesn't even matter if I send it - assuming that could be done. Perhaps it comes down to this. I am writing to you because you know nothing. Because you are far away from me and know nothing.

No, she can weather his disappointments if she has to, that isn't the problem, she can put up with anything as long as she feels he is solidly with her, but that is precisely what she doesn't feel anymore, and even if he seems content to glide along with her out of old habits, the reflex of old affections, she is becoming ever more certain, no, certain is probably too strong a word for it, she is becoming ever more willing to entertain the idea that he has stopped loving her.

I chanced upon these words from a letter by Van Gogh: "Like everyone else, I feel the need of family and friendship, affection and friendly intercourse. I am not made of iron, like a hydrant or a lamp post. Perhaps this is what really counts: to arrive at the core of human feeling, in spite of the evidence.

times i think u were the most cherished trophy i had, but sometimes i think i was the game that you played.

It was the first time since his master's death that he had been able to think about such things without feeling crushed by sorrow, the first time he had understood that memory was a place, a real place that one could visit, and that to spend a few moments among the dead was not necessarily bad for you, that it could in fact be a source of great comfort and happiness.

Anger and disappointment could take you just so far, he realized, but without curiosity you were lost.

Such were the contradictions of manhood, Ferguson discovered. Your heart could be broken, but your gonads kept telling you to forget about your heart.

Something was wrong, and while Mr. Bones could scarcely imagine what that thing was, Henry's sadness was beginning to have an effect on him, and within a matter of minutes he had taken on the boy's sadness as his own. Such is the was with dogs.

Sáng tr?ng, r?i bóng t?i. N?ng d?i xu?ng t? m?i ng? tr?i, sau ?ó là ?êm ?en, nh?ng vì sao im l?ng, gió xao ??ng lá cành. L? th??ng là v?y.

?? v?t, nh?ng v?t vô tri, có th? di?n ??t tình c?m c?a con ng??i.

Se pregunta si las palabras no serán un elemento esencial de la sexualidad, si hablar no es en definitiva una forma más sutil de acariciar, y si las imágenes que bailan en nuestra cabeza no son igual de importantes que los cuerpos que abrazamos.