Quotes About Emotion

Did Mr. Poe write as a boy? Dear me, yes. It was all he had, what with losing his mother as a toddling child and then being cast aside by his foster father. I think sometimes his pen was his only friend in the world

I am a poet. Words are my currency.

It doesn't have to be logical, it doesn't have to be love in the usual sense. It doesn't even have to be long lasting. Usually it isn't. But whatever it is, it is real and powerful while it lasts, and there's no point denying it.

If Jessica had been pleased with his work, that was enough. He had bent to his work and poured his entire soul, black as it might have been, into fashioning something beautiful for his lady. His lady. He could no longer think of her as anything else. And that was the thought that left him standing in the lists, useless and fair blinded by the thought of his poor heart being so exposed.

The more I see you," he said quietly, "the more I want you.

Besides, as much as she loved Bruckner's symphonies, he just couldn't touch a man who had painted his bedroom walls with views of the sea to please her, who gave his precious smiles to her alone, who wept when he watched his daughter sleep.

Even if words could reach to eternity there would not be enough to express the way I feel about you.

It's funny how, when you really want to say something bitchy and cutting to someone who's been bitchy to you, you can't think of anything till afterwards. When there's no real call for it, you come suddenly out with a piece of 9-carat bitchery that shakes even you.

I trust you with my life. I'm pretty sure I love you. But more importantly, I like you.

You're important, Nicholas interrupted quietly catching her face and turning her to peer at him. You're the most important thing in the world to me Jo. I love you. Let me have this moment.

Straightening, he then stared down at her for a moment, his tight-lipped expression easing and twitching with amusement when she began to snore lightly. She was just so damned cute. Shaking

Claray started to turn away, but then stopped and whirled back to give him a quick kiss, then promptly blushed at the spontaneous action when his eyebrows flew up. Wives kiss husbands when they part, she muttered to cover her embarrassment, and headed away, only to have him catch her arm and draw her back. That was no' a proper kiss, he announced solemnly, and then commenced to show her his version, which left her breathless and flushed when he released her and walked back to the men.

Annabel stopped rubbing the center of her lower back and ducked her head to hide the blush his words had brought on. It made Ross want to kiss her. Reminded

Love was a gift that should be given freely, and without the expectation of gaining anything in return. It was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be afraid of. It just was.

Your face is lined with beauty from laughter and tears

Literature is the best thing humanity has. Poetry is the heart of literature, the highest concentration of everything that is the best in the world and in man. It is the only true food for your soul.

Madness, as anyone knows who has observed it at close quarters, is the more infectious the more sensitive the psyche of the person finding themselves in the proximity of the mad person.

But these two? Robert thought a

It was only a moment of confusion, but it was carnivorous, and he sensed that by acknowledging it he had allowed it in.

Love always requires courage and involves risk.

As I grow through love, so grows my joy, ever more present, ever more constant.

And then I realized that Mrs. X. was actually not able to distinguish between Susan and herself. What she felt, Susan must feel. She was using Susan as a vehicle to express her own needs. She was not doing this consciously or maliciously; on an emotional level she could not, in fact, perceive Susan as having an identity separate from her own.

On the contrary, real love often occurs in a context in which the feeling of love is lacking, when we act lovingly despite the fact that we don't feel loving.

The feeling of love is the emotion that accompanies the experience of cathecting. Cathecting, it will be remembered, is the process by which an object becomes important to us. Once cathected, the object, commonly referred to as a 'love object,' is invested with our energy as if it were a part of ourselves, and this relationship between us and the invested object is called a cathexis.