Quotes About Emotion

love was like some shabby old footstool. Everyone used it without wanting it and no one ever gave it a moment's thought.

I wish I'd thrown my arms around Gus's neck and kicked up my back foot or squealed his name or any of the things that a normal woman would do, seeing a man she was fond of, who she thought was dead.

It was a festival of maternal love, all day, every day.

He read the first one all the way through and breathed in the love, that hot, hurting feeling under your ribs...Love that made life matter even when you were just looking back at it.

He says, I prepared some… and then he squeezes my hands tightly and he begins to cry. "I love you so much," he says. "That's all I can say. I love you so, so much and I will love you every day of my life.

I could feel him through a glass and I was banging on it, screaming at him: Why is there a glass between us? Where did it come from? Take it down! And Brian looked at me with puzzled, irritated concern and said, in effect, What glass? And, Please, please stop complaining about this thing that isn't even there.

Those of us who knew him and needed him didn't want to stop grieving, for fear we'd step forward, toward the future, and entirely lose the trace, the smell, and the feel of him.

A blind man can see how much I love you

neuroscientists have discovered that fear activates the amygdala, the section of the brain that is responsible for detecting threats.

Women who are inclined to write poetry at all are inspired by being mad at something.

She can paint a lovely picture, but this story has a twist. her paintbrush is a razor, and her canvas is her wrist.

Keep a cool surface. Calm. Detached. As inside a part of you has been shattered.

faded blue flannel shirt, and he smelled so good, I kept lowering my head to his shoulder and breathing in the dark, rich scent hidden in the hollow of his throat.

I can feel shutters banging closed in his head, the locks to every door turning sharply. Even his body is tense now,

Tiny, insignificant things that don't come close to the way he trusts me, or the way he listens to me, but put it all together and just the sight of him makes my heart ache with how much I want to keep this. How much I want to keep him.

Love doesn't reside in the heart, anyway. Love resides in the liver along with jaundice.

He could not wait to get rid of them so he could enjoy remembering them.

Death may feel like an amputation at the time of the loss, but if the connection is still vibrant, perhaps those aren't phantom pains haunting us but the spirit of love.

Tom lifted his other hand and rested it lightly on Reese's slim hip, barely holding on. "I want to kiss you.

I love you. I want to shout it sometimes. I know you worry about our letters and texts getting read--shades of WWII, haunting us still, I guess, and I'm well aware that nothing's safe on the internet. I worry too. You need to know that when I say it, when I ask you to say it, it's because my lungs feel full of dark water, and seeing it or writing it lets me breathe.

and his head and shoulders were on the bed next to the boy who had captured his heart like cupped hands would capture a butterfly, and had never, ever clutched him too tight and never let him go.

You're my friend," Chris whispered back, and his other hand came up so he could rub Xander's lower lip with his thumb. "That makes you beautiful.

The whole world heard you tell poor Angie Robinson that "Chris Edwards was your heart"—man, it's one of the most fucking romantic things I've ever heard.

You didn't know that... that my whole world stopped when I first saw you smile.