Quotes About Emotion

He looked at me, and his mouth worked the miracle of the ordinary smile.

Slowly, I brushed his hair more tenderly, and I saw to my own mute shock one of my tears fall right onto his face. It was red yet watery and transparent and it appeared to vanish as it moved down the curve of his cheekbone and into the natural hollow below.

His expression changed. He grew sad, agitated, without moving so much as a muscle and the tears come up in his eyes. How wise he seemed for his years. How strangely compassionate.

Anger is too painful for me. Anger is too pathetic. I cannot hear it. I cannot act upon it.

I had never heard the notes quite as limpid and translucent, quite as flashing and exquisitely distinct.

I wanted to touch him once more with my cold fingers, but I did not dare.

I love you," he said. "Why?" "Because you are beautiful to me. Because you can see me. Because you are all the things in a human being which I myself desire. Because you are human and warm and soft. And I know you, and have known the others before you.

His expression was concerned and protective, and I felt such an overwhelming need of him and love for him that I was about to cry. I held it back.

As I let him go, he could scarcely stand. But he was no coward, this man. And he bowed his head for only an instant and then he looked at me with clouded eyes.

And I love to hear you say it, Louis. I need to hear you say it. I don't think anyone will ever say it quite like you do. Come on, say

How deeply I loved him, and how I didn't want him to know.

He could not paint, he could not touch the brushes. It was as if the colors, when raw, burnt his eyes.

I rather loved him, loved his lean graceful movements, and the way in which he responded wholeheartedly to things, or not at all.

Anger did move me and perhaps in the wrong way.

Things were happening too fast. My earlier judgments were shaken, and the beauty of Amadeo grew with each passing night.

Memory knows that we cannot endure its company.

It was so simple to smile at him; he deserved one's tenderest smile.

I don't think you can feel sheer panic continuously. Your mental system breaks down. It comes in waves, and you have to tell yourself, well, this will end.

I was part of life once more and my heart was beating to a human pace.

I wanted to kiss her, but I couldn't do this, and so I labored to make my words so many kisses.

A need to apologize stole over me again, perhaps because Lestat seemed lost in his judgment of the place.

I was careless, I was all too softened by human emotion. I was too greedy for love.

Do you know how it wounds me to leave behind the one city in the world with which I'm truly in love?

beauty meant nothing because it came from the despair inside him, and it had nothing to do with the despair finally, because the despair wasn't beautiful, and beauty then was a horrid irony?