Quotes About Emotions

Every sin we commit reinforces the habit of sinning and makes it easier to sin. In the previous chapter we discussed the importance of guarding our minds and emotions, since these faculties are the channels through which the various compelling forces reach our wills. But it is also important that we understand how our habits influence our wills.

Bitterness usually stems not so much from the other person's actions as from the effects of those actions on our lives. Consider the following scenario in your life.

It is vain to guard our minds and emotions against that which comes from without if we do not at the same time deal with habits of sin which are within. The battle for holiness must be fought on two fronts—without and within. Only then will we see progress toward holiness.

stories aren't ideas. They're not concepts or definitions. They're experience.

My mind is a reasonable sort of fellow. But my heart . . .my heart has never been able to understand loss.

Ice cream is the perfect buffer, because you can do things in a somewhat lighthearted way. Plus, people have an emotional response to ice cream; it's more than just food. So I think when you combine caring, and eating wonderful food, it's a very powerful combination.

But shitty human beings sometimes make great art.

I've come to believe that it's the stronger man who expresses his emotions rather than swallowing them and allowing them to fester.

Every man's dream is to be able to sink into the arms of a woman without also falling into her hands

I get very nervous when I have to take my wedding ring off.

I see 30 to 40 gallery shows a week, and no matter what kind of mood I'm in, no matter how bad the art is, I almost always feel better afterward. I can learn as much from bad art as from good.

Without a song, the day would never end; without a song, a man ain't got no friend; without a song, the road would never bend. Without a song.' So I keep singing a song. Good-night.

I see now that my faith was becoming an ally rather than an enemy because I could vent anger freely, even toward God, without fearing retribution.

A tiny butter knife slices more skin off my heart every time I think about her.

I wasn't sad after my father kissed the streetcar. If anything, it was a relief. Much as I missed him, his dying gave me an excuse to feel the way I already felt. Which was the way I felt right now, under the laundry room fluorescents: hollow, pissed off, wanting to be wherever I wasn't. Until I got there. Then I wanted to be somewhere else.

That's the thing about people you loved. They disappeared on you. I didn't know much at the ripe old age of fifteen and a half. But, for better or worse, I knew that.

We can't live together," I remember screeching. "We're married. It's too corny!

It can make you sad to look at pictures from your youth. So there's a trick to it. The trick is not to look at the later pictures.

My mother used to read me stories. They ended happily, but before that, there was usually sadness or difficulty. I never understood why they ended just when the good part was starting.

Entonoces comprendí que no me amaba, deseaba solamente mi cuerpo, yo sé que él también lo sabía, aunque trataba de engañarse y me dijera que me amaba, pero al decir eso mentía, porque solamente deseaba mi cuerpo, deseaba el amor, pero no sabía amarme, lo único verdadero en él era el deseo insaciable

Para vivir hay que aprender a mirar la muerte con cierta indiferencia. No hay que dedicar a los muertos demasiados sentimientos ni pensar en ellos en exceso. No lo necesitan. No necesitan nada. No existen. Sólo los vivos existen.

It mattered little if one was mute; people did not understand one another anyway. They collided with or charmed one another, hugged or trampled one another, but everyone knew only himself. His emotions, memory, and senses divided him from others as effectively as thick reeds screen the mainstream from the muddy bank. Like the mountain peaks around us, we looked at one another, separated by valleys, too high to stay unnoticed, too low to touch the heavens.

Our language has lost its ability to convey the spontaneous.

It seems that what I really want is a drug that will increase my consciousness of others, not myself.