Quotes About Emotion

Then let me be happy no more.

He was leaving here broken, awed, humbled, diminished.

Russian short story master Isaac Babel put it, "no iron spike can pierce a human heart as icily as a period in the right place." We're

Halfway through the second paragraph, we find that the resisting element within the narrative voice belongs to one Marya Vasilyevna, who, failing to be moved by springtime, appears in the cart at the sound of her name.

Art, at its best, is a kind of uncontrolled yet disciplined Yelp, made by one of us who, because of the brain he was born with and the experiences he has had and the training he has received, is able to emit a Yelp that contains all of the joys, miseries, and contradictions of life as it is actually lived.

I want to stab you, Dad, says the little boy. With a sharp sword, you're so dumb.

Art doesn't have to solve problems, it only has to formulate them correctly." "Formulate them correctly" might be taken to mean: "make us feel the problem fully, without denying any part of it.

The contractor's performance was described in terms of what he could do, Yashka's in terms of what he caused his listeners to feel.

My husband was not handsome and was not generous. He was a bore. Was not rough with me but neither was he tender.

Todo el mundo sabe lo que es un flechazo, el amor a primera vista; no hay forma de explicarlo. Sucede, no cabe duda de que sucede: una mirada, un gesto, en los que se decide toda una vida.

Si no se puede enseñar el amor, ¿se puede enseñar el odio?

I have in my mind an obscenity so great that I could vomit the most dreadful words and it wouldn't be enough!

She was crying, with wild entreaty, the way one vomits.

She was so unsettled by love and the sense of her nakedness that her voice shrank in her throat. The peri­ods of the song warbled through the room. Her whole body seemed ablaze . The drunken , singing head shook with some delirious impulse that seemed to be destroy­ ing her. What insanity! She was weeping, in her wild nakedness, as she approached my bed, which to me was a death bed. She fell on her knees, she fell down in front of me and hid her tears in the sheets.

I already knew this immense tenderness, which is only the last degree of sorrow… I knew then, already, that the intimacy of things is death.

Anguish is what makes humankind, it seems; not anguish alone, but anguish transcended and the act of transcending it.

Toujours la générosité s'oppose au mouvement de l'avarice, comme au calcul raisonné la passion.

Poetry removes one from the night and the day at the same time. It can neither bring into question nor bring into action this world that bids me.

L'amour est enfant de Bohême, Il n'a jamais jamais connu de loi. Si tou ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime. Si je t'aime, prends garde à toi!

Kay?ts?zl?k iÅŸe yatamaz. Ä°steyebilir ya da istemeyebilirsin, ne fark eder! Bir parti tilt oynamak ya da oynamamak; nas?l olsa biri ayg?t?n deliÄŸine bir yirmibeÅŸlik atacak. Her gün ayn? yemeÄŸi yemekle kararl? bir hareket yapt???n? sanabilirsin. Ne var ki reddediÅŸin iÅŸe yaramaz. Yans?zl???n hiçbir anlam ta??maz. Cans?zl???n öfken kadar abes.

The beauty of sorrow is superior to the beauty of life.

That is the way it is, we always fall in love because of a detail, a nuance. It is a marker we set up for ourselves in the midst of the confusion, in the infinite space of love. The greatest passions come from such little causes.

It is distance that creates nostalgia.

Più io sono goffo avvicinandomi a lei e più, ne sono sicuro, lei è contenta. È il mio turbamento che osserva piuttosto di pensare al suo piacere, quell'attimo in cui per un miracolo che si riproduce alcuni milioni di volte al giorno, un corpo di donna diventa per un uomo la sola cosa importante al mondo.