Quotes About Emotion

You've the saddest song of any man I've ever known." The

The days we shared I alone would remember now. I suddenly felt less real.

There had been a few occasions when words had so reached into him and settled their truth in him like roots in rich earth.

I just sat, feeling something inside me go very still. I hoped it was my heart.

Tears welled in my eyes. Perhaps, I thought, if I do not blink, they will not spill. Perhaps if I sat very still long enough, somehow my eyes would reabsorb the tears.

A man hurried toward me, face shrouded in his hood against the wind. He glanced up and our eyes met. He blanched and turned aside, to hurry back the way he had come. Well, and so he might. I felt my anger building to an unbearable heat. The wind whipped at my hair and sought to chill me, but I only strode faster, and felt the strength of my hatred grow hotter. It lured me and I followed it like the scent of fresh blood.

A fatalistic patience came over me. I set out the breakfast things as she dressed. I knew I reached my decision. It was as if Hap's words last night had estinguished a candle inside me. My feelings for Starling had changed that completely. We sat at table together, and she tried to make all seem as it had before, but I kept thinking "this is probably the last time I'll watch how she swirls her tea to cool it, or how she waves her bread about as she talks'.

Something turned over in my heart.

She could weep no tears, for all hers had been spent.

Hesitating at the last instant, she gazed back at Vesper, and tears brimmed in her eyes as she murmured in a meek voice, "Good-bye, my love." Then she returned to the enchanted device and called out, "May this new vessel serve you well!

When tears fall that silently and that quickly, they're coming from your heart. It's like you have a soul-wound, and I just punctured it, and it bled tears.

Do you think it's possible to finally decide that you really, truly love someone but not end up marrying him?

We needn't feel forced or pushed to move on before we're ready. Letting go of the way we hoped things would be is not an easy or overnight task. We will need to be patient with ourselves and throw out any timetable we had for how or when the grief would be complete.

When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.

At her mother's words, Molly felt herself go hot and cold and hot again, in quick succession.

Sistine, I sincerely wish to fuck you.

For men love what they cannot have, and hate what they cannot control.

Am I pretty? I must be, I thought, for all girls in love are pretty.

Roses are for love. Not silly sweet-hearts' love but the love that makes you and keeps you whole, love that gets you through the worst your life'll give you and that pours out of you when you're given the best instead.

She touched her fingertip to his wet face and brought away a tear. Amazed, he did the same. He tasted this river his own eyes had rained. "It tastes of salt!" he exclaimed. "It tastes like the sea!" "Mine too!" she laughed through her own tears, and he touched and tasted hers as well. "It's as if humans kept a sign of the mother sea in ourselves, a secret token of grief or gladness.

He straightened quickly and looked round at her. "Oh, Claire!" He patted the breast pocket of his shirt, making a hollow drumming

Let your children see you kiss. Let them see you embrace. Let them overhear your teasing, your gentle rebukes, even your well-intentioned jealousy. Domestic courtship reinforces the notion that people are together because they want to be together, not because it is the decent, practical thing to do.

Dig a small hole in the earth. Ask Mother Earth to help you as you release your grief (the grief can be over a specific thing or a general feeling that is weighing you down). Cry over and into the hole in the earth for as long as you need to. Feel her receive your tears without judgment.

Love was poetry in its purest form. It existed when it did, and there was nothing that could match it's truth, its mystifying magnetism, its unequaled emotion. Love was a perfectly written sentence without using sound, and unparalleled array of visual harmony without using color. You created it, and it was there to have and to hold without your ever actually being able to see it. It just was.