Quotes About Emotion

Because every one of us has our box, a dark chamber stowing the thing that lanced our heart. It contains what you do everything for, strive for, wound everything around you. And if it were opened, would anything be set free? No. For the impenetrable prison with the impossible lock is your own head.

They looked happy, but, of course, that didn't say much. Everyone smiles for a photograph.

You're mistaking love for perfection, I said. Real love when it's there? It's just there . It's a metal folding chair.

That was just how Jim was. He saturated. He overflowed. He drowned.

Astrid taught me some of the words. I've never forgotten them. One was 'terulya.' It meant deep-diving love, a love that excavates you. It's something you have to have before you die in order to have lived.

I was aware of how shoddily stitched together the words were—suddenly I was a kid in the hall standing outside my locker about to head to Math. But that was how it went sometimes, the English language, when you really needed it, crumbled to clay in your mouth. That's when all the real things were said.

Is she sad? she asked. No, honey. She's lived-in.

Mortal fear is as crucial a thing to our lives as love.

The Latin poet wrote 'Amor vincit omnia,' or 'Love conquers all.' He did not write, 'Love frees all' or 'liberates' all, and therein lies the first degree of our flagrant misunderstanding. Conquer: to defeat, subjugate, massacre, cream, make mincemeat out of. Surely

I could hear his breathing, every breath he borrowed from the world then set free.

every one of us has our box, a dark chamber stowing the thing that lanced our heart. It contains what you do everything for, strive for, wound everything around you. And if it were opened, would anything be set free? No. For the impenetrable prison with the impossible lock is your own head.

Love is the opposite of good sense.

Where was my mother to stroke my hair? Where was my grandmother to tell me that lovers, I would have them by the dozen? Where was my father to punish this boy who dared hurt his daughter? Where?

I never realized how much they loved me. And I understood how important they were to me.

Anh yeu em, or "I Love You.

What did you think, that joy / was some slight thing?

Doesn't rain make a memory more intimate?

Maybe we should be glad, finally, that the word can't go where the heart can, not completely. It's freeing, to think there's always an aspect of us outside the grasp of speech, the common stuff of language. Love is common, too, absolutely so—and yet our words for it only point to it; they do not describe it. They are indicators of something immense: the word love is merely a sign that means something like This way to the mountain.

What is memory but a story about how we have lived?

Amy: Hey, Paisley, Ever fancied someone you know you shouldn't? Bracewell: What? Amy: Hurts, doesn't it? But kind of a good hurt.

You know, the Elizabethans thought nostalgia was a diagnosable disease. Perhaps they were right.

And herein lies the key to the brilliance of Mark Haddon's choice of narrator: The most wrenching of emotional moments are chronicled by a boy who cannot fathom emotion. The effect is dazzling, making for a novel that is deeply funny, poignant, and fascinating in its portrayal of a person whose curse and blessing is a mind that perceives the world literally.

even writing this makes me feel shaky and scared, like I do when I'm standing on the top of a very tall building and there are thousands of houses and cars and people below me and my head is so full of all these things that I'm afraid that I'm going to forget to stand up straight and hang on to the rail and I'm going to fall over and be killed.

it is good to have a reason why you hate some things and you like others.