Quotes About Emotion

his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot.

I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again.

Through all he said, even through his appalling sentimentality, I was reminded of something—an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man's, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound, and what I had almost remembered was uncommunicable forever.

Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty, told only of her unexpected joy.

Minute by minute the sweetness drained down into her out of the willow trees, out of the dark world.

up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She

There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything.

Daisy chantonnait avec l'orchestre, un murmure voilé, cadencé, et elle donnait à chaque mot un sens qu'il n'avait jamais eu, qu'il n'aurait jamais plus. Quand la mélodie montait vers l'aigu, sa voix se brisait doucement, pour reprendre aussitôt sur un ton plus bas, un ton de contralto, et l'air se chargeait, à chaque variation, d'une exquise bouffée de chaleur humaine.

Most of all she wanted him to know how she loved him, now that the fact was upsetting everything, now that she was walking over the battlefield in a thrilling dream.

All my beautiful lovely safe world blew itself up here with a great gust of high explosive love.

held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see.

Almost five years! There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

Elle disait ce qui lui passait par la tête, mais avec une chaleur bouleversante, comme si, à travers ces mots chuchotés, frémissants, son cÅ"ur essayait de se faire entendre.

All life is just a progression toward, and then a recession from, one phrase—'I love you.

Well, there I was, 'way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden I didn't care.

She danced exceptionally well, drew cleverly but hastily, and had a startling facility with words, which she used only in love letters.

Elle se leva dès qu'il fut sorti, s'approcha de Gatsby, leva son visage vers lui, l'embrassa sur les lèvres. — Je vous aime et vous le savez, murmura-t-elle.

Then for a moment they faded into the sweet darkness so deep that they were darker than the darkness, so that for awhile they were darker than the black trees- then so dark that when she tried to look up at him she could but look at the wild waves of the universe over his shoulder and say, 'Yes, I guess I love you too.

Then the door opened and she came into the room - and it was as though everything in it suddenly blurred before his eyes. He had not remembered how beautiful she was, and he felt his face grow pale and his voice diminish to a poor sigh in his throat.

I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there'll always be the person I am to-night.

As she crossed the threshold her face caught the room's last light and brought it outside with her.

Oh, nothing--only I want sentiment, real sentiment--and I never find it.

Amory [softly, battle lost]: I love you. Rosalind: I love you--now.

Amory: Darling girl. [They kiss. Another pause and then she seizes his hand, covers it with kisses, and holds it to her breast.] Rosalind [sadly]: I love your hands, more than anything. I see them often when you're away from me--so tired; I know every line of them. Dear hands! [Their eyes meet for a second and then she begins to cry--a tearless sobbing.]