Quotes About Emotion

He would have recoiled still more had he been aware that her attachment rose unsolicited, and was bestowed where it awakened no reciprocation of sentiment; for the minute he discovered its existence, he laid the blame on Heathcliff's deliberate designing.

Till I loved I never lived.

My love for those I love -- not many -- not very many, but don't I love them so?

There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.

I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I'm used to that— But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet— And I tip—drunken— Let no Pebble—smile— 'Twas the New Liquor— That was all!

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind— As if my Brain had split— I tried to match it—Seam by Seam— But could not make it fit.

I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still.

Inebriate of Air — am I — And Debauchee of Dew — Reeling — thro endless summer days — From Inns of Molten Blue —

To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—

I see thee better in the dark I do not need a light.

Till I loved I never liked enough.

Todo lo que sabemos del amor es que el amor es todo lo que hay.

Your absence insanes me so-- I do not feel so peaceful, when you are gone from me.

I like a look of agony, because I know it's true

Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.

A not admitting of the wound Until it grew so wide That all my Life had entered it

If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

Los que son amados no pueden morir, Porque amor significa inmortalidad.

Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --

We do not play on Graves— Because there isn't Room— Besides—it isn't even—it slants And People come— And put a Flower on it— And hang their faces so— We're fearing that their Hearts will drop— And crush our pretty play— And so we move as far As Enemies—away— Just looking round to see how far It is—Occasionally—

the second half of joy is shorter than the first

Not with a club, the Heart is broken Nor with a Stone – A Whip so small you could not see it I've known

The Dark—felt beautiful—

Until you have loved, you cannot become yourself.