Quotes About Emotion

Smirky mouths make you want to kiss them, to smooth them out and kiss the smirkiness away.

When did you know you were in love?" I didn't have an answer to that question. There hadn't been one specific moment. It was like gradually waking up. You go from being asleep to the space between dreaming and awake and then into consciousness. It's a slow process, but when you're awake, there's no mistaking it.

Years from now this will be what I remember when I remember my spring break senior year. It will be this moment right here. The smell of chlorine on his skin. The way the sun dips slow into the water before it disappears. The first time I ever told a boy I loved him.

The brief walk--from the screened-in porch outside to the Hearse--was one of those moments he knew he'd remember and look back on, one of those moments that he'd try to capture in the stories he told. Nothing was happening, really, but the moment was thick with mattering.

It doesn't matter if I like him or not, because he doesn't like me back.

She's the kind of person you want to like you. You know she can be cruel; you've seen her be cruel. But when her eyes are on you, and she's paying attention to you, you want it to last. Her beauty is part of it, but there's something more --- something that draws you in. I think it's her transparency --- everything she thinks or feels is written all over her face, and even if it wasn't, she'd say it anyway, because she says what she thinks, without thinking first.

His voice made my shiver, it was like the sound f water when it pulls off sand.

Love is scary: it changes; it can go away.

I like you so much I don't know what to do with it. My heart beats so fast when I know I'm going to see you again.

He kissed like he was drowning and I was air. It was passionate, and desperate, and like nothing I had ever experienced before. This was what people meant when they said the earth stopped turning. It felt like a world outside of that care, that moment, didn't exist. It was just us.

Up close, your face wasn't so much handsome as beautiful.

I could survive for months, years, on a crush. It was like food. It could sustain me.

It's the kind of love that doesn't know better and doesn't want to—it's dizzy and foolish and fierce.

All of this love crap makes me want to puke.

But then I saw the way he blushed, the way he looked off into space, and I knew it wasn't for me.

So, how does he kiss?" I'm blushing. I tap my fingers on my lips before I say, "He kisses like ... like it could be his job.

Envy so thick and so black I felt like I was choking on it.

When you lose someone and it hurts, that's when you know the love was real.

To picture him, sitting at his desk at home, scribbling away with a pen and paper, endears him to me so completely. It gives me shivers. Currents of electricity from my scalp down to my toes.

The first boy I ever slow danced with. Ever cried over. Ever loved.

My voice was high and desperate, and I was crying, and I hated that I was crying, but I couldn't help it. I had to keep talking, because this was it. Last chance.

I stared at him. Did he really just say that? Did he remember? The way he looked back at me, one eyebrow raised, I knew he did. And this time, I was the one to look away. Because I remembered. I remembered everything.

Shit!" he yells. "I hate that I can't protect you from this.

It's like we're in a movie and the music is swelling and waves are crashing around us.