Quotes About Emotion

Try to write in a directly emotional way, instead of being too subtle or oblique. Don't be afraid of your material or your past. Be afraid of wasting any more time obsessing about how you look and how people see you. Be afraid of not getting your writing done.

The facts of this world will never satisfy the human heart, but what we give each other can, when it holds love.

Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding space,' to quote the late, great Zora Neale Hurston. It

Sighs are the punctuation of most of our lives, of relief, of how much worse it could have been, of "Now what?

He started to explain his position, trying to get me to engage. I secretly shut my heart to him completely. I forgot that this hurts only me.

How come you can hear a chord, and then another chord, and then your heart breaks open?

tucked his hands under his thighs as if they had to be contained, as if they would lash out otherwise, or fly away.

Trauma, which is stored differently in the brain than memory, seeps out of us as warnings of worse to come.

It stops and gasps at beauty and is bathed in it. And sometimes it begins to weep.

The thing is, emotion - if it's visibly felt by the writer - will go through all the processes it takes to publish a story and still hit the reader right in the gut. But you have to really mean it.

People don't change, love. React first, think later, regret at leisure.

Your voice is sad and your hands are slow, And your eye meeting mine turns away.

I can only find you by looking deeper, that's how love leads us into the world.

There was no energy of a narrative in my family, not even the fervour of an elegy.

Avery did not know what Jean was thinking, only that there was intense thought behind those eyes filled with tears. It was not only her weeping that moved him, but this intensity of thought he perceived in her. Already he knew that he did not want to tamper, to force open, to take what was not his; and that he was willing to wait for a long time for her to speak herself to him.

We must not forget what it means to be in love with another human being, Lucjan had said. For this, once lost, can no longer be imagined.

Grief strikes where love struck first.

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone, his own burden, his own way.

When the heart is flooded with love there is no room in it for fear, for doubt, for hesitation.

But the bond—the bond of romantic love is something else. It has so little to do with propinquity or habit or space or time or life itself. It leaps across all of them, like a rainbow—or a glance.

The capacity to love does not die when the lover dies.

It isn't always the value of what is taken that makes us hate. Sometimes it's just the fact that we've been robbed.

Fear does different things to people. Some run away. Some go forward to meet it before it's there.

And she was attractive. She had an unusual mixture of innocence and individuality. A man who loved her might waken all kinds of passions in her, and high among them would be loyalty.