Quotes About Emotions

I love Black Beauty, but it's just a story, of course. What matters is. . . I don't know. . . what you do once the story is inside you.

Holding on to resentments and anger can ruin your quality of life. The only person who suffers from your failure to forgive is you—it is not the other guy. When you stay hostile or resentful, it tears down your immune system and increases your risk of disease.

I will never stop grieving for my long-held wish for enduring love that does not reduce its major players to something less than they are.

As much as I try to make the past keep still and mind its manners, it moves and murmurs with me through every day.

I am not okay. Not at all and haven´t been for some time. I did not tell her how discouraged I felt and that I was ashamed I was not more resilient an all the rest of it which included wanting a bigger life but that so far I had not been bold enough to make a bid for things I wanted to happen....

I can't stand THE DEPRESSED. It's like a job, it's the only thing they work hard at.

The unloved watch the loved perform the small rituals of their loving.

I might one day risk falling in love again, but I was not going to lose my heart to the cardiologist.

To separate from love is to live a risk-free life. What's the point of that sort of life? As I wheeled my electric bike through the park on the way to my writing shed, my hands had turned blue from the cold. I had given up wearing gloves because I was always grappling in the dark for keys. I stopped by the fountain, only to find it had been switched off. A sign from the council read, This fountain has been winterized. I reckoned that is what had happened to me too.

It is a disappointment to me to spawn a child who feels so deeply. I would like to refute the idea that to feel somehow makes you a better person.

My words were smaller than my feelings at that moment. I had spent my life finding diplomatic words. Am I a diplomat then? Isn't it hard enough to play Beethoven

Can we accept that language is sacred and scared and it's scarred as well, because that's how we all are?

The Poet wipes her eyes on the corner of my tablecloth. 'Perhaps the modern tragedy, Lapinski, is that we weep and do not know what we are weeping for. This is quite different from catharsis.' She suddenly throws back her head and roars with laughter; her gold teeth rattle

How easily I can be betrayed by those who mean me no harm.

Deborah Moggach

Now he was fifty-six and the thought of getting to know a woman all over again filled him with a panic-stricken desolation.

I'm like a mussel, closed in my shell. It's only you who can open me.

The measure of our success is how we cope with disappointment.

Deborah Moggach

So we sit, inside our separate skins, and every now and then lean forward to gaze hard at another person and read his or her looks. We ask, 'how's the weather in there?' And if they can answer, if they so choose, we're privileged to share for a brief time what it means to be other than who we are. Might it be that animals share--to varying degrees, inside their varied skins--these same shadowy contents from which love, terror, grief, compassion, and shame spring?

Shame does something to a man. It makes him forget those he loves. It makes a good man do bad things.

I was tired. Tired of men, tired of moving, tired of being scared, tired of being confused. But who was I kissing? I'm not one to sit quietly, anywhere.

I'm not happy, I'm cheerful. There's a difference. A happy woman has no cares at all. A cheerful woman has cares but has learned how to deal with them.

You happy you got her to run away?" "Thrilled to death," he replied bitterly as he closed the door behind her.