Quotes About Emotions

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

And he was silent again, for who is not silent when someone is dead, who was a small bright boy?

Acababa de ver lo que queda de un hombre cuando a todo lo que es, a todo lo que cree ser, se le resta la mujer que ama.

the great theme of the private journal in the 20th century is sickness.

los celos, cansados de ser feroces, vuelven a la matriz de la que alguna vez los desterró el rencor: la matriz del desamparo.

Quando a felicidade é sua e a dor é do outro não há relação entre felicidade e dor?

Are you sulking now?" he asked. "Yes," she answered curtly. "OK.

Humanity is contagious.

She would live and love. She would be vibrant and happy and thoughtful and strong.

but you're angry. Not with me, because no one could be angry with me, but with others.

It's not that I want you to go, it's just that I don't want you to stay.

I don't want to think about living in a world where you're not in it, all right?

She liked that feeling, as much as she hated to admit it. She liked being around someone who was genuinely happy to be around her.

I wish I would have known you earlier so I could love you longer. - Derek Miles

Initially [my favorite books] seem to immerse me in another life, but ultimately they immerse me in me; I am looking through the window into another person's home, but it is my face that I see in the reflection.

Jesus. I had a dream last night too. You had. I dreamt that my Grandma had just died yesterday. Dear God. And she had died long before I was born. He looked at me with astounded eyes, and felt his neck, and then he patted my knee. Aisy son, he said. Why did I dream her? Because you never met her. The dead you never met die a little bit every day in your head.

we are terrible at reading each other's thoughts. Yet we consistently behave as if we have been endowed with this entirely handsome ability.

1. If you are pained by external things, it is not they that disturb you, but your own judgement of them. And it is in your power to wipe out that judgement now.8

What upsets people is not things themselves but their judgements about these things.'1 In other words, it is not events out there that cause our problems but rather our reactions to them: the stories we tell ourselves.

Perhaps the first mark of emotional maturity is to realise that there is an enormous gulf between the events of the world and what we do with them.

One of the reasons I enjoy going to the Opera is the spectacle of an audience enraptured. Their emotions are engaged, their passions brought to the fore, they become highly sensitive.

Even though its dark sometimes or its scary for the people involved, ultimately I always make sure theyre exhilarated by it. Its genuinely a real pleasure to take people to that place.

By deafening ourselves to the emotional consequences of violence we have become confused by its relationship to sex. We have come to believe that violence equals aggression, and we have come to base our model of sexuality on our model of violence... converting an act of aggression into an act of consensual sexuality.