Quotes About Emotion

its all i have to give her

I firmly believed that if I had picked up a rifle and gone on a murdering rampage, I would have still had the benefit of her unblinking love.

Setiap wanita membutuhkan seorang suami. Meskipun sang suami menjadikan lagu dalam dirinya berhenti mengalun.

In a few years, he will be replaced. The boys will become enamored with other things, other people, embarrassed by him and Nahil.

Kiss Aziza for me," she said. "Tell her she is the noor of my eyes and the sultan of my heart. Will you do that for me?

With the passing of time, she'd tire of this exercise. She would find it increasingly exhausting to conjure up, to dust off, to resuscitate once again what was long dead. There would come a day when the details of his face would begin to slip from memory's grip. She would not miss him as much as she did now, when the ache of his absence was her unremitting companion.

As soon as she was in Mariam's arm, Aziza's thumb shot into her mouth and she buried her face in Mariam's neck. Mariam bounced her stiffly, a half-bewildered, half-grateful smile on her lips. Mariam had never before been wanted like this. Love had never been declared to her so guilelessly, so unreservedly.

This was the illness my father was carrying around with him.

Aku sering memuja Baba begitu rupa, dengan intensitas mendekati pemujaanku kepada Tuhan. Tapi saat itu, aku berharap aku bisa menoreh pembuluh nadiku dan mengeluarkan seluruh darah terkutuk Baba dari dalam tubuhku.

Sad stories make good books," she said.

Good-bye, Mariam." And, with that, unaware that she is weeping

Love is blind, and blind is dangerous.

I missed you so much, she breathed. I tilted my head back and put my hands on her shoulders. I could hardly believe this was happening. I was finally getting to touch her. To kiss her. It was all happening. I missed you, too.

What would you do if it were me?' she asked, her voice practically a whisper. 'Do you think you'd feel different about it?' My breath caught in my throat. *I'd marry you* was the first thought that popped into my mind. And it was true, I realized suddenly. I would marry her. I would take care of her. I would do whatever to protect her.

My voice sounded throaty and my chest was warm with hope. Because I'd meant it. I'd do anything for her.

If anyone thinks he has faith and yet is indifferent towards this possession, is neither cold nor hot, he can be certain that he does not have faith. If anyone thinks he is Christian and yet is indifferent towards his being a Christian, then he really is not one at all. What would we think of a man who affirmed that he was in love and also that it was a matter of indifference to him?

Love's merciless, the way it travels in and keeps emitting light.

I'm so in love with you I can't stand up.

For You For you I undress down to the sheaths of my nerves. I remove my jewelry and set it on the nightstand, I unhook my ribs, spread my lungs flat on a chair. I dissolve like a remedy in water, in wine. I spill without staining, and leave without stirring the air. I do it for love. For love, I disappear.

Poetry is an intimate act. It's about bringing forth something that's inside you—whether it is a memory, a philosophical idea, a deep love for another person or for the world, or an apprehension of the spiritual. It's about making something, in language, which can be transmitted to others—not as information, or polemic, but as irreducible art.

his discomfort seemed to soften her, for when he met her eyes again, they were kind.

You hold me at arm's length.

Grief, it seemed, was a physical place.

A film closed over the past as she spoke, a barrier as brittle and fragile as ice forming. It would grow and strengthen. It would become impenetrable, opaque.