Quotes About Emotions

One cubic centimetre cures ten gloomy sentiments.

One is always alone in suffering; the fact is depressing when one happens to be the sufferer, but it makes pleasure possible for the rest of the world.

Resentment bred shame, and shame in its turn bred more resentment.

You see, I'd behaved pretty badly. Losing my head about someone I didn't really love and hurting someone I did. Why is one so stupid? The heart has its reasons, said Will, and the endocrines have theirs.

I know quite well that one needs ridiculous, mad situations like that; one can't write really well about anything else. Why was that old fellow such a marvelous propaganda technician? Because he had so many insane, excruciating things to get excited about. You've got to be hurt and upset; otherwise you can't think of the really good, penetrating, X-rayish phrases.

There was a silence. In spite of their sadness—because of it, even; for their sadness was the symptom of their love for one another—the three young men were happy.

It's with bad sentiments that one makes good novels.

What we feel and think and are is to a great extent determined by the state of our ductless glands and viscera.

Happiness is a hard master - particularly other people's happiness.

Punctured, utterly deflated, he dropped into a chair and, covering his face with his hands, began to weep. A few minutes later, however, he thought better of it and took four tablets of soma. Upstairs in his room the Savage was reading Romeo and Juliet.

We participate in tragedy. At comedy we only look.

Impulse arrested spills over, and the flood is feeling, the flood is passion, the flood is even madness.

I'm claiming the right to be unhappy.

There's nothing like a re-creation of the event. Which is lucky. Think if one could fully remember perfume or kisses! How wearisome the reality of them would be!

Christianity without tears—that's what soma is.

Happiness is a hard master—particularly other people's happiness.

Bernard was duly grateful (it was an enormous comfort to have his friend again) and also duly resentful (it would be pleasure to take some revenge on Helmholtz for his generosity).

Words are the thread on which we string our experiences.

Feeling are communicated by means of ideas, which are their intellectual equivalent; at the sound of the words conveying the ideas the appropriate emotion is evoked.

Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the over-compensations of misery.

The mind is its own place; she carried her hell about with her.

To understand sympathetically, with one's whole beings, the state of mind of some one radically unlike oneself is very difficult—is, so far as I am concerned, impossible.

All men have similar sensations, but not all have similar intuitions.

In spite of their sadness - because of it, even; for their sadness was the symptom of their love for one another - the three young men were happy.