Quotes About Emotions

Everyone has a secret place in his mind. Otherwise relationships would be impossible.

She sounded angry. That was the way she'd been as long as he'd known her. If she became ill, it irritated her. She was annoyed by sickness. She seemed to regard it as a personal affront.

They won't accept reasonable things with their minds but the fantastic things they'll swallow whole when their emotions are brought into play. Because the emotions have no limits on belief. The emotions will swallow anything—and they do.

Another day. Another collection of wracking hours.

And he wonders, deep in the self-isolated recesses of his mind whether he is killing himself with anger, whether he is destroying his system with fury.

The sobs came then, faster than she could swallow. A teacher dares not cry, not a real teacher.

Someday you'll need to take down a worn-out volume and flip to that passage on the lower right-hand face, ten pages from the end, that fills you with such sweet and vicious pain.

What I really like to learn how to do is to build sentences that are equal to mental states.

Maybe happiness is like a virus. Maybe it's one of those bugs that sits for a long time, so we don't even know that we are infected.

On the ride back south, she tapped all the anger-management tricks they'd given her in job training. They played across her windshield like PowerPoint slides. Number One: It's not about you. Number Two: Your plan is not the world's. Number Three: The mind can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

He will love this music to death. In a few more years, he'll snort at its sentiment and mock its stirring progressions. Once you've loved like that, the only safe haven is resentment.

That's the ruling story on this planet. We live suspended between love and ego.

every boy carries a variation on hanging himself in the backyard branches in the rain. At least the one I saw did. I love nobody. I feel I am on the verge of loving everybody. Then I step outside my room. And he is waiting there.

There's joy in a minor key, a deep pleasure to be had from hearing the darkest tune and discovering you're equal to it.

He has always been alien to her, a man of procedures where there should be passions. Now she wonders if he might have died, once, too.

That's the ruling story on this planet. We live suspended between love and ego. Maybe it's different in other galaxies. But I doubt it.

Every one imagines that fear and anger, violence and desire, rage laced with the surprise capacity to forgive—character—is all that matters in the end.

Love, as all the good novels know, is a question of title, deed, and possession.

Chester's death had almost killed him. All the grief over Alyssa that he'd suppressed in order to protect me tore out of him when the crippled old beast gave up.

There's joy in a minor key, a deep pleasure to be had from hearing the darkest tune and discovering you're equal to it.

There are a hundred thousand species of love, separately invented, each more ingenious than the last, and every one

L'amore è un ciclo di feedback dal desiderio alla condivisione, alla perdita. Un moto anti-hebbiano: le attivazioni si fanno sempre più fiacche. (p.243)

first group of subjects—the "targets"—entered emotional states in response to external prompts, while researchers scanned relevant regions of their brains using fMRI. The researchers then scanned the same brain regions of a second group of subjects—the "trainees"—in real time.

AI monitored the neural activity and sent auditory and visual cues to steer the trainees toward the targets' prerecorded neural states. In this way, the trainees learned to approximate the patterns of excitation in the targets' brains, and, remarkably, began to report having similar emotions.