Quotes About Emotions

She slapped Kestrel's face. Without thinking twice, Kestrel slapped her back, as hard as she could. The young woman burst into tears. The servant saw this, aghast. "Baby!" She exclaimed. "Oh, my poor baby!" "You've been kind to me," said Kestrel, "and you're very beautiful, but if you hit me again I'll kill you.

No es fácil. No es nada fácil. Piensa en todo lo que quiere hacer las cosas mal. Todo el miedo del mundo, la violencia que proviene del miedo, el odio que proviene de la violencia, la soledad que proviene del odio. Hanno Hath

Los mejores carecen de toda convicción, En tanto que los peores Están llenos de apasionada intensidad.

Not to be provok'd is best: But if mov'd, never correct till the Fume is spent; For every Stroke our Fury strikes, is sure to hit our selves at last.

How many husbands and wives must believe they have fallen out of love because their hearts no longer race at the sight of their beloveds!

Would you like to hear a nice definition of jealousy? It's the feeling that you get when someone you absolutely detest is having a wonderful time without you.

at last I realized that God would never ask of me that which I know to be psychologically impossible; that the love which He asked was in my will and not meant to be felt as emotion. No. Not at all. He was asking that I act with love; that I do unto others; and that I should do it unto those who repelled me, I believe, was a greater act of love than any other.

Ah, well … at last I realized that God would never ask of me that which I know to be psychologically impossible; that the love which He asked was in my will and not meant to be felt as emotion. No. Not at all. He was asking that I act with love; that I do unto others; and that I should do it unto those who repelled me, I believe, was a greater act of love than any other.

From these he had fled into love, but now the love had grown cold, and in the night he heard it whistling through the chambers of his heart like a lost and gently crying wind.

How many husbands and wives," Merrin uttered sadly, "must believe they have fallen out of love because their hearts no longer race at the sight of their beloveds.

at last I realised that God would never ask of me that which I know to be psychologically impossible; that the love which He asked was in my will and not meant to be felt as emotion at all. Not at all. He was asking that I act with love; that I do unto others; and that I should do it unto those who repelled me, I believe, was a greater act of love than any other.

Whenever she grinned, her entire face appeared to crinkle.

Her condition isn't quite what it seems," explained Klein. "It's a form of overcompensation, an overreaction to depression.

Não, costumo vez a possessão nas coisas, Damien. Nas picuinhas e nos desentendimentos; na palavra cruel e cortante que salta livre à língua entre amigos. Entre namorados. Entre marido e mulher. Temos muito disso e não precisamos de Satanás para criar nossas guerras. Conseguimos criá-las sozinhos... Sozinhos.

Cuántos maridos y mujeres —exclamó con tristeza— creerán que ya no se aman porque sus corazones no se conmueven al verse! ¡Ah, Dios querido!

This was like childhood, this grief.

The last few years have been my happiest. I'm happy in the years that most people are blue and sad and waiting to die. I don't feel that a bit. Smiling has a lot to do with it. You can just lift your spirits by smiling a little bit.

Like any crowd in a democracy they were looking for someone to vent their anger on

A cat can be trusted to purr when she is pleased, which is more than can be said for human beings.

You cannot hold back a good laugh any more than you can the tide. Both are forces of nature.

I don't think that anyone outside Paris can understand love and murder as we do. But Emile loves Paris, and loving Paris is a murderous education. ("Anthropology: What Is Lost In Rotation")

When you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.

The most solid advice for a writer is this, I think: Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.

I do not know what makes a writer, but it probably isn't happiness.