Quotes About Emotion

It was a beautiful dream, being with this one person who loved him. He could warm himself by that dream and wake up in its bed every day and every night—but he wasn't sure if he could ever really inhabit that dream.

Galen's sweet Benedictine smile illuminated his face in that mix of glory and dirt, and John had to swallow hard or he would have just cried at beauty like a kid in church.

Yeah, well, the one thing I've learned this past year? It's that worry means love.

Dammit, he wasn't a kid to go shooting off with just a touch, and Crick stroked his hair until he knew he wasn't going to lose it before he was buried inside the love of his goddamned life.

Okay," Crick said, rolling his eyes. "I give. Which part of my body is more interesting than my ass?" Deacon rewarded his obtuseness with a smack to the head. "Your heart, you fuckin' moron. Man, I get about fifteen minutes a day max out of your ass—it's your heart I want twenty-four-seven. Jesus, Crick—stop thinking in your pants!

I love you, big man. I love you so much I can't believe the world turned before we met. But you and me, we are going to have a big, ugly,

I miss you," he gasped into Kelly's chest. "Oh God. I miss you so much." Kelly moaned—not a sexy moan, a sad one—and they were both crying, kissing, tasting salt and sex on each other's skin as the final, more painful crest hit them both.

God, it's gorgeous when you do that," he said, his voice choked. "Do what?" Mackey asked, not able to stop staring at him. "Pull music out of the air," Grant

Because the songs that don't make the listener feel like barbed wire is ripping through their chest make them feel like someone's stitching up the wound with a rusty needle and a bottle of scotch for the pain. It's not always happy, but God, those songs make you feel.

The whole world trembled under the two of them, and the only time it felt right and solid was when they were close like this, close enough to touch.

It was nothing at first. Just a bare brush of lips to lips.

But he carried that thing, that pixilated fuck-off-and-love-me thing into the music.

We have a kind of dead body? Most couples just go with favorite song.

Crick got a clear view of him, laughing and nude and beautiful enough to make his heart break.

And he would probably love Deacon Winters truly and deeply for the rest of his entire life, in the way that most men loved their wives.

With every touch of his father's hand to his mother's face, he believed that about love.

The music owns me," he repeated, feeling dumb. "I am the music. I close my eyes and… I am that chord, or that moment, or that dance. I am…." The crowd, the guitar, the mood, the lyrics, the heartbeats, the drumbeats, the guitar chords, the sweat, the muscle, the movement, the song. "You can't fall when you're there," he said and swallowed hard.

He wanted that with some foreplay and a lot of afterglow, and maybe some, "Gee, Crawford, you are a nice guy, and I'd really like to do this frequently, if you don't mind me saying so.

What have I ever done to you…." There it went, two octaves, and he wrenched it back under his control. "What have I ever done to you that you would hurt me like that?

love you," he said, blowing Reg's mind. "I don't know if any other boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever, has said that, but that's how I feel.

And then Spencer did a surprising thing. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, like someone starving for it, someone who'd needed tenderness all his

Jeff's eyes opened then, and he was still desperate and still hot but suddenly very, very serious. "Live," he said. "Breathe. Be warm. Want me.

He could play for a million people who would all walk away thinking, 'That's the sound of God crying,' and it would make their hearts better." He didn't realize he was so close to crying until his voice cracked.

Me neither," he whispered. "You take all the lovers you need, but I will never fall in love again.