Quotes About Emotional

I was a sensitive and easily traumatized creature who would fall into fits of weeping at any disturbance in her force field.

Those who have deeply suffered in some particular way are welded together in an understanding incomprehensible to those who have not so suffered.

Because I happen to think that being sensitive is the most valuable form of intelligence there is.

You've used me to punish yourself, haven't you? He watched dawning realization spread over her face, a confirmation more positive than anything she could ever say, and that arrow twisted deep in his chest. Yet still he had to ask the last question. Am I anything to you but a punishment?

I sorrow for your suffering, and I am sorry for my early arrogance, that assumed no one else had also suffered

She could not think about it Ã¢â'¬Â¦ any of it Ã¢â'¬Â¦ without going to pieces.

I have never been able to understand how men can feel affection for individuals who are intent on massacring them in a variety of unpleasant ways, but it is an undeniable fact that they can and do. Witness the immortal verse of Mr. Kipling: So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'home in the Soudan; You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man! One can only accept this as another example of the peculiar emotional aberrations of the male sex.

Hate is a destructive emotion, but it does not destroy the object of hatred. It destroys the one who hates

kind ladies smiled, reason or no. They smiled, not because they were happy but because they wished to make happy.

I don't want to stay here without you,' said Dolly. 'This place is you. You've made it. It is soaked in you. I should feel haunted here without you. Why, I should feel lost.

Hemingway has his classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt. All he can say is, Gradually, then suddenly. That's how depression hits. You wake up one morning, afraid that you're gonna live.

I want to explain how exhausted I am. Even in my dreams. How I wake up tired. How I'm being drowned by some kind of black wave.

I am so tired of the girl in the infirmary, I am so sick of the girl who cries wolf all the time - even though not one of those cries was ever a false alarm. Not one of my pleas was ever less than truly urgent because when it's all in your mind, there always IS a wolf.

But now, years later, I must admit that unhappiness seems to run in the family, there have been so many generations of it on my dad's side that I wonder why someone doesn't just put a stop to it. I don't know why someone doesn't throw a big black umbrella over our heads and pull us all out of the rain.

But now, years later, I must admit that unhappiness seems to run in the family, there have been so many generations of it on my dad's side that I wonder why someone doesn't just put a stop to it. I don't know why someone doesn't throw a big black umbrella over our heads and pull us all in out of the rain.

I tried to remind myself that Rafe was not the problem. The problem, as Dr. Sterling explained it to me and as I myself knew, was that I was fucked up. Rafe was merely a makeshift solution I'd come up with, a pill I took to make the bad feelings go away. But now that he was not cooperating so well, now that he was refusing to be used this way, now that he was insisting that he wanted to be my boyfriend and not my panacea, he was no longer part of the solution. He was part of the problem.

She cried until the tears were no longer able to meet the demands of her sadness

She might be a protector, but she was not a real companion; and he knew that somewhere or other he had left a lot of other real companions whom he now missed dreadfully.

She'd never go so far as to consider she'd made a mistake marrying someone whose interior furnishings and emotional tastes were so hopelessly different than her own—for Dick was innocent

Physical pain however great ends in itself and falls away like dry husks from the mind, whilst moral discords and nervous horrors sear the soul.

Experience has taught us that we have only one enduring weapon in our struggle against mental illness: the emotional discovery and emotional acceptance of the truth in the individual and unique history of our childhood.

You're too lazy, passive to suffer. I do that for you too.

No one is kind to me; no one asks me what's wrong.

How much have you suffered? It isn't just, is it? No it's not