Quotes About Emotion

I let him go, without a word about any other meeting, though he was the one thing I wanted to keep: I wanted him in my bed all night, asleep on my pillow, and I might have had him, but I said nothing.

Joy is irrational and takes hard work and does not always deliver a happily ever after.

It is almost impossible to describe happiness,because at the time it feels entirely natural as if all the r est of your life has been the aberration; only in retrospect does it swim into focus as the rare and precious thing it is.

Poetry consoles me at the same time it inflames me, I said. 'You should know better,' he sniffed. 'It's poison for the soul!

I know now that to die without tasting this is truly not to have lived. In this, and this only, have we lived: to feel all, to dare all, to try all.

Indeed, there seems to be some evidence not only that all love is based on illusion — but that love positively requires illusion in order to endure.

It's a truism that love is blind; what's less obvious is just how much evidence it can ignore.

A woman's body doesn't quit just because her heart breaks.

Laughter is man's most distinctive emotional expression.

Having someone wonder where you are when you don't come home at night is a very old human need.

You know you love someone when you cannot put into words how they make you feel.

You should be kissed and by someone who knows how.

Longing hearts could only stand so much longing.

I only know that I love you. That's your misfortune.

Her lips on his could tell him better than all her stumbling words.

God help the man who ever really loves you.

She hasn't your strength. She's never had any strength. She's never had anything but heart.

It's not because I've -what is the phrase? -'swept you off your feet' by my -er- ardor?

A pain slashed through her heart as savagely as a wild animal's fangs.

Ashley watched her go and saw her square her small shoulders as she went. And that gesture went to his heart, more than any words she had spoken.

He never really existed at all, except in my imagination, she thought wearily. I loved something that I made up...I made a pretty suit of clothes and fell in love with it. And when Ashley came riding along, so handsome, so different, I put that suit on him and made him wear it whether it fitted him or not. And I wouldn't see what he really was. I kept on loving the pretty clothes-and not him at all.

Scarlett kicked the coverlet in impotent rage, trying to think of something bad enough to say. 'God's nightgown!' she cried at last, and felt somewhat relieved.

She wanted to cry but the tears would not come. They seemed to flood her chest, and they were hot tears that burned under her bosom, but they would not flow.

She had the temper of a Tartar and the rages of a wild cat and, at such times, she did not seem to care what she said or how much it hurt.