Quotes About Emotions

I just wish it hadn't happened four days before Thanksgiving. It's going to spoil the holiday to have everyone so gloomy.

You are, after all, what you think. Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.

It's still two human beings trying to get along, so it's going to be complicated. And love is always complicated. But humans must try to love each other, darling. We must get our hearts broken sometimes. This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.

Desiring another person is perhaps the most risky endeavor of all. As soon as you want somebody—really want him—it is as though you have taken a surgical needle and sutured your happiness to the skin of that person, so that any separation will now cause a lacerating injury.

I was full of a hot, powerful sadness and would have loved to burst into the comfort of tears, but tried hard not to, remembering something my Guru once said -- that you should never give yourself a chance to fall apart because, when you do, it becomes a tendency and it happens over and over again. You must practice staying strong, instead.

As smoking is to the lungs, so is resentment to the soul; even one puff is bad for you.

They flank me - depression on my left, loneliness on my right. They don't need to show their badges. I know these guys very well. ... Then they frisk me. They empty my pockets of any joy I had been carrying there. Depression even confiscates my identity; but he always does that.

How could two people who were so in love not end up happily ever after? It had to work. Didn't it?

You have the opposite of poker face. You have like.. miniature golf face.

When you have only two minutes to say good-bye to the person you love most in the world, and you don't know when you'll see each other again, you can become logjammed with the effort to say and do and settle everything at once.

Infatuation is not quite the same thing as love; it's more like love's shady second cousin who's always borrowing money and can't hold down a job.

There are only two questions that human beings have ever fought over, all through history. 'How much do you love me?' And, 'Who's in charge?' Everything else is somehow manageable. But these two questions of love and control undo us all, trip us up and cause war, grief, and suffering.

We're miserable because we think that we are mere individuals, alone with our fears and flaws and resentment and mortality.

My heart was broken so badly last time that it still hurts. Isn't that crazy? To still have a broken heart almost two years after a love story ends? 

Own your disappointment, acknowledge it for what it is, and move on.

Every intimacy carries secreted somewhere below its initial lovely surfaces, the ever-coiled makings of complete catastrophe.

So miss him. Send him some love and light every time you think about him, then drop it.

This is what we are like. Collectively as a species, this is our emotional landscape. I met an old lady once, almost 100 years old, and she told me, There are only two questions that human beings have ever fought over, all through history. How much do you love me? And Who's in charge? Everything else is somehow manageable. But these two questions of love and control undo us all, trip us up and cause war, grief, and suffering.

I said, It seems like you have fond feelings towrd your ex-wife. Are you two still close? Nah, he said casually. She thinks I changed my name to motherfucker.

But I love him. So love him. But I miss him. So miss him. Send him love and light every time you think about him, and then drop it.

I am burdened with what the Buddhists call the monkey mind. The thoughts that swing from limb to limb, stopping only to scratch themselves, spit and howl. My mind swings wildly through time, touching on dozens of ideas a minute, unharnessed and undisciplined. You are, after all, what you think. Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.

One must bear what cannot be escaped, she told Alma, as she rubbed clean her face. You will not die of your grief - no more than the rest of us ever have.

My face is a transparent transmitter of my every thought.

Desperate love is always the toughest way to do it.