Quotes About Emotion

To be free of passion and yet full of love.

If therefore it be a thing external that causes thy grief, know, that it is not that properly that doth cause it, but thine own conceit and opinion concerning the thing: which thou mayest rid thyself of, when thou wilt.

The Stoics aspired to the repression of all emotion, and the Epicureans to freedom from all disturbance; yet in the upshot the one has become a synonym of stubborn endurance, the other for unbridled licence.

To the jaundiced honey tastes bitter, and to those bitten by mad dogs water causes fear; and to little children the ball is a fine thing. Why then am I angry? Do you think that a false opinion has less power than the bile in the jaundiced or the poison in someone bitten by a mad dog?

If you are distressed about anything, the pain is not one to the thing but to your own estimate to it.

If therefore it be a thing external that causes thy grief, know, that it is not that properly that doth cause it, but thine own conceit and opinion concerning the thing:

No mostrar nunca la apariencia de cólera ni de ninguna otra pasión

Suppress the thought; and the cry I am hurt! is gone. Suppress I am hurt! and you suppress the injury.

He only employs his passion who can make no use of his reason.

Love is the attempt to form a friendship inspired by beauty.

We forget our pleasures, we remember our sufferings

A hatred not shown and which remains concealed, is to be feared more than that which is openly voiced.

For when the soul is deprived of emotion, what difference is there — I do not say between man and the beasts of the field, but between man and a stock or a stone, or any such thing?

El cariño es muy traicionero. La justicia tiene sus exigencias, pero el cariño pugna por ella

It said: Dearest Milla, My sould needs yours. Love, Jimmy

He took my fingers in his, and for a long moment we remained still. Two old bodies linked together by our hands and by the thousands of tender words we no longer need to speak.

Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language and the last, and it always tells the truth.

Love blurs your vision; but after it recedes, you can see more clearly than ever. It's like the tide going out, revealing whatever's been thrown away and sunk: broken bottles, old gloves, rusting pop cans, nibbled fishbodies, bones. This is the kind of thing you see if you sit in the darkness with open eyes, not knowing the future. The ruin you've made.

How could I be sleeping with this particular man.... Surely only true love could justify my lack of taste.

Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love.

But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling.

I knew what love was supposed to be: obsession with undertones of nausea.

If I love you, is that a fact or a weapon?

People cry at weddings for the same reason they cry at happy endings: because they so desperately want to believe in something they know is not credible.