Quotes About Emotion

After you went, a low wind warbled through the house like a spacious bird, making it high but lonely. When you had gone the love came. I supposed it would. The supper of the heart is when the guest has gone.

Lest Love should value less What loss would value more, Had it the stricken privilege --- It cherishes before.

Since I have no sweet flower to send you, I enclose my heart; a little one, sunburnt, half broken sometimes, yet close as the spaniel, to it's friends

Die geliebt werden, können nicht sterben, denn Liebe bedeutet Unsterblichkeit.  

That Love is all there is, Is all we know of Love

The smitten rock that gushes, The trampled steel that springs; A cheek is always redder Just where the hectic stings!

Love's stricken why Is all that love can speak— Built of but just a syllable, The hugest hearts that break.

It's all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fields— And all the meadows wide— Be sure you count—should I forget Some one the sum could tell— This, and my heart, and all the Bees Which in the Clover dwell.

Piangere è una piccola cosa - cosa tanto breve un sospiro. Ma cose di tale grandezza uccidono uomini e donne.

Emily Dickinson

Dearer you cannot be, for I love you so already, that it almost breaks my heart - perhaps I can love you anew, every day of my life, every morning and evening - oh, if you will let me, how happy I shall be!

When the Best is gone - I know that other things are not of consequence - The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care.

Your sweetness intimidates.

And whose 'I'll meet you' hesitates If love inquire, 'Where?

But a book is only the heart's portrait-every page a pulse

If you were here, and Oh that you were, my Susie, we need not talk at all, our eyes would whisper for us...

Nous fuyons son Visage d'autant plus que nous l'apprécions De peur que l'ineffable disgrâce de la vision Entache Notre Adoration

It burned me in the night, It blistered in my dream;

Each that we lose takes part of us; A crescent still abides, Which like the moon, some turbid night, Is summoned by the tides.

Tis not that Dying hurts us so— 'Tis Living—hurts us more— — Emily Dickinson, from "'Tis not that Dying hurts us so—," [335], The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (Little, Brown & Co.,1960)

Bring me the sunset in a cup." ? Emily Dickinson

To lose what we never owned might seem an eccentric Bereavement but Presumption has its Affliction as actually as Claim —

I should have had the joy Without the fear to justify, —

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