Quotes About Emotions

To whom can I put this question (with any hope of an answer)? Does being able to live without someone you loved mean you loved her less than you thought... ?

Literature is that which he can not read without pain, without choking on truth.

I live in my suffering and that makes me happy. Anything that keeps me from living in my suffering is unbearable to me.

I am either lacerated or ill at ease and occasionally subject to gusts of life

What pricks me is the discovery of this equivalence. In front of the photograph of my mother as a child, I tell myself: She is going to die: I shudder… over a catastrophe which has already occurred. Whether or not the subject is already dead, every photograph is this catastrophe.

I ask for nothing but to live in my suffering.

Freud to his fiancée: The only thing that makes me suffer is being in a situation where it is impossible for me to prove my love to you Gide: Everything in her behaviour seemed to say: Since he no longer loves me, nothing matters to me. Now, I still loved her, and in fact I had never loved her so much; but it was no longer possible for me to prove it to her. That was much the worst thing of all

What affects me most powerfully: mourning in layers—a kind of sclerosis. [Which means: no depth. Layers of surface—or rather, each layer: a totality. Units]

I limp along through my mourning.

The measurement of mourning: eighteen months for mourning a father, a mother.

Una parte de mí vela en la desesperación; y simultáneamente otra se agita mentalmente arreglando mis asuntos más futiles. Resiento esto como una enfermedad.

l'amour avait fait de lui un déchet social, ce dont il se réjouissait.

Only the Mother can regret: to be depressed, it is said, is to resemble the Mother as I imagine her regretting me eternally

I never know the loved being's voice except when it is dead, remembered, recalled inside my head, way past the ear; a tenuous yet monumental voice, since it is one of those objects which exist only once they have disappeared

To know that one does not write for the other, to know that these things that I am going to write will never cause me to be loved by the one I love (the other), to know that writing compensates for nothing, sublimates nothing, that it is precisely *where you are not*--that is the beginning of writing.

I could read my nonexistence in the clothes my mother had worn before I can remember her.

Magic consultations, secret rites, and votive actions are not absent from the amorous subject's life, whatever culture he belongs to.

The lover's discourse is in a sense a series of No Exits

I counter whatever doesn't work in love with the affirmation of what is worthwhile

To be jealous is to conform...To reject jealousy is to transgress a law.

Comme jaloux, je souffre quatre fois : parce que je suis jaloux, parce que je me reproche de l'être, parce que je crains que ma jalousie ne blesse l'autre, parce que je me laisse assujettir à une banalité : je souffre d'être exclu, d'être agressif, d'être fou et d'être commun.

Nije li najbolnija to?ka tog žalovanja u tome što moram izgubiti jedan jezik - ljubavni jezik? Svršeno je s onim 'Volim te.')

In wrestling, as on the stage in antiquity, one is not ashamed of one's suffering, one knows how to cry, one has a liking for tears.

12 de noviembre Hoy—día de mi cumpleaños—estoy enfermo y no puedo—no puedo ya decírselo a ella.