Quotes About Emotions

By maturity, he meant that he learned to control those more youthful impulses, not that he was no longer stung or hurt or angry. It is not that you always know what to do or how to do it, it is that you are able to tamp down the emotions and anxieties that get in the way of seeing the world as it is. You can see through them, and that will see you through.

Yes, emotions may be authentic, and authenticity is a modern virtue, but one can be authentic without being unnecessarily revealing.

Yes, bottle up your negative emotions in a neurotically unhealthy way. For my sake. Just off and on until spring. Your springtime emotions I like a lot." I took a long swig of beer. "I don't know, Timothy. I have to tell you, this is a bolt out of the blue. Your proposition is not something I ever dreamed I'd be faced with when we began sharing hearth and home and Vaseline jar. I'm going to have to give this one a lot of thought.

He looked over at me now, his eyes wet. "Will you come and lay down with me first?" "Well, gee, Lyle . . . gee. Actually, I think Miss Manners would advise against it. I mean, with my lover waiting down in the car and all. I think you have a good bit to learn about timing—about the social graces. I'm pretty sure we'd both feel very, very bad afterwards. Also, these days I'm a bit overextended in that department.

Everybody feels oppressed during a Wagner performance. That is part of the appeal.

They all blur together these days—the smell of manure and buttered popcorn, urine and cotton candy, hay and innocence. He wrings his hands again and then stands up. Bob hobbles over to the corner, goosebumps rippling across his flesh, and he begins to wash off the cloud of white, his costume of the day, the way he is able to meander through any festive occasion with hardly a worry—balloons in hand, a smile on his face, knots twisting in his gut, blood filling his shoes.

It's fun to sing sad songs. And it's fun to listen to sad songs. Enjoyable. Satisfying. Something.

is writing that does what only literature can do: transport you to another time and place and acquaint you with emotions and sensations that you otherwise would never feel.

It is writing that does what only literature can do: transport you to another time and place and acquaint you with emotions and sensations that you otherwise would never feel.

Himmler's pimply teenage daughter was incredulous when reading about her father's career, which was now being serialized in newly appearing German-language papers. When I tried to interview her, she ran crying from the room. I was surprised that Himmler's daughter had feelings!

It seems to me sometimes that seasons leave us in the way people do, never just gone, but degree by degree, fading like the smell on a loved one's favourite sweater, until the vanishing one day evolves into memory.

I've come to understand that the pain of a wound or a loss is over as it happens. What follows is the pain of getting well.

And me, well, I have to confess that I liked them all too, but maybe leaned more in favour of those types of stories that reached inside of you, touched something that you hadn't touched for a long time, and reminded you of the soft moments where you really came to be who you are. Spoken by Amelia One For The Road (a fictional character in Ragged Company) about the movies she'd seen.

Divorce is one of the most financially traumatic things you can go through. Money spent on getting mad or getting even is money wasted.

Unicamente los hombres fuertes conocen el amor, solamente el amor incluye la belleza, solamente la belleza produce el arte. El amor de los débiles entre sí no puede producir sino la satisfacción de sus apetencias lujuriosas.

But I am weary of The winter way of loving things for reasons. — Richard Wilbur, from "Winter Spring," New and Collected Poems (HBJ, 1988)

Reading was like a drug, a dope. The novels created moods in which I lived for days.

she had always been ready to take off the minute she happened to feel like it ("Don't talk to me that way, Frank, or I'm leaving. I mean it") or the minute anything went wrong.

The whole point of crying was to quit before you cornied it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted: let yourself go and you started embellishing your own sobs, or you started telling about the Wheelers with a sad, sentimental smile and saying Frank was courageous, and then what the hell did you have?

She never seemed to lose her temper, but it would almost have been better if she did, for it was the flat, dry, passionless redundance of her scolding that got everybody down.

Rachel became slowly aware now, even while talking and listening to her own voice, that there might well be something universal about the pleasure a grown girl could take in disparaging her mother.

With their mother lying in a coma twenty miles away, they clung together drunkenly and wept for the loss of their father.

I had discovered, or rediscovered, that crying is a pleasure—that it can be a pleasure beyond all reckoning if your head is pressed in your mother's waist and her hands are on your back, and if she happens to be wearing clean clothes.

There was plenty of liquor flowing, but most of it seemed to be going down my mother's throat.