Quotes About Emotions

The books are funny and sad, and that's what people respond to.

Fighting with your best friend is NO fun.

Not bad. Human. You've really got to stop seeing things as all bad or all good. And you've got to learn that just because someone tells you something that you don't want to hear, doesn't mean that person's out to get you.

Well, I, Amber Brown, am green with envy. I am not only green….. I am feeling blue….. I am seeing red….. I am purple with anger….. I am not feeling like a rainbow. I am feeling plaid. All of these colors mix together to make a not very pretty pattern. I, Amber Brown, do not like plaid.

You don't know what you feel, he said sharply. That's what manners are for--to keep things going when one doesn't know.

It was hard to reassure grown-ups when you weren't certain yourself what you were feeling and thinking—when thoughts dissolved before you could name them.

Grown-ups always seem to be worried about money, or politics, or just stuff that has physical presence. It's like somewhere along the way they lost the ability to think about what's inside them.

He died in St. Vincent's. I got a call one night, and this very firm Negro voice said, 'Your dad, he ain't got no life signs.' I said, 'You mean he's dead?' 'We ain't 'lowed to use that word,' said the voice. 'He ain't got no life signs is all.' " 'That's okay,' I said. "He never did.'

She can't understand that books don't get used up. I've tried to explain that they aren't like clothes or furniture-that we keep them because we might want to read them again. And because they remind us of how we felt when we read them.

Books could be an incredible adventure. I stayed under my blanket and barely moved, and no one would have guessed how my mind raced and my heart soared with stories.

It gave me a sharp kind of sadness to think that no matter how much I loved him and tried to put him back together again, he might stay broken forever.

Knowing he was suffering pained me. That's the way love tangles you up. I couldn't stop loving him, and couldn't shut off the feelings of wanting to care for him— but I also didn't have to run to answer his letters. I was hurting, too, and no one was running to me.

I knew that I could hate him all I wanted for the way he was hurting me, but I couldn't ever stop loving him, absolutely, for what he was.

Maybe happiness was an hourglass already running out, the grains tipping, sifting past each other. Maybe it was a state of mind.

Maybe no one can know how it is for anyone else.

I loved him for a full year and then, in one night, all my wishing came apart.

At twenty-eight I'd had a handful of beaux, but had only been in love once, and that had been awful enough to make me doubt men and myself for a good long while.

I wasn't raised to acknowledge my own feelings, let alone stick up for myself like that.

That's what terrible, sordid situations did to you, made you act crazily, against your own truths, against yourself.

I love you now more than I ever have in some ways and though different people view their marriage vows differently, I meant mine to the death. I'm ready to be yours forever if you must know it, but since you've fallen in love and want to marry someone else, I feel I have no choice but to move aside and let you do that.

I don't know how to describe it, but after the blush of my own company wore off, I became so aware of Earnest's absence it was as if the lack of him had moved into the apartment with me.

i liked feeling strong and was uncomfortable knowing that had vanished whne he left. was my happiness so completely tied to him now that i could only feel like myself when he was near? i had no idea.

There was nowhere to go in the house to escape my dark thoughts.

I was falling in love, and it was wonderful, and it was awful.