Quotes About Emotion

can send a black thread twisting through his mood for days

I think of you all the time, the veins in your throat, the fuzz on your arms, your eyes, your mouth. I loved you then, I love you now.

There there is music, almost always music.

turning scarlet in her mind

wearing a look not of disappointment but tired amusement.

push back the hood of grief...

All of it is burning. Every memory he ever made.

he thinks [...] as though his love for his daughter will outstrip the limits of his body. The walls could fall away, even the whole city, and the brightness of that feeling would not wane.

Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and forget my duties. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel.

Quem sabia que o amor poderia matar?

Ele a fez o brilhante centro da vida dele; ele a fez sentir como se cada passo que ela dava fosse importante.

This look?" Bastian says, and flourishes his fat hand. "The way he's got nothing left? A German soldier never reaches this point. There's a name for this look. It's

The more sentimental, the better.

She turns her face toward his, and though she cannot see him, he feels he cannot bear her gaze. "Won't you come with me?

But he didn't have language for what he really wanted to say; he couldn't explain how her wildness that day, on the road, had thrilled him as much as it terrified him.

He thought he might say more, but something in her face had closed off, and the opportunity passed.

He could not look at his daughter without feeling his heart turn over.

Inside her pulses something huge, something full of longing, something unafraid.

That's how it feels right now, he thinks, kneeling beside her, rinsing her hair: as though his love for his daughter will outstrip the limits of his body. The walls could fall away, even the whole city, and the brightness of that feeling would not wane.

To really touch something, is to love it.

What do I care, she whispers, for cities and princes and histories?

The love for your kids, I'm learning, is a kind of love that has no conclusion, a feeling that multiplies back on itself.

husband, a certain thought ringing like a bell calling

But he was afraid to speak. He could see that speaking would be like dashing some very fragile bond to pieces, like kicking a dandelion gone to seed; the wispy, tenuous sphere of its body would scatter in the wind. So instead they stood together, the snow fluttering down from the clouds to melt into the water where their own reflected images trembled like two people trapped against the glass of a parallel world, and he reached, finally, to take her hand.