Quotes About Emotion

Bob had found fundamentally foreknowledged form in the way Annie giggled

One man's act of absurdity may be another's substitute for solace.

Knowing one was comprised of recycled matter only and that selfhood was a delusion did not take away the aching of the heart.

He didn't ask himself if she was beautiful, because the physical effect of her presence made the question insignificant.

I breathed and breathed and did feel some calmness enter in, though it was, as always, shot with a sense of loss. Loss and fear.

But I can hardly remember what it felt like. It's like everything that happens to you. It doesn't feel real.

The past was suddenly rushing in on me in a way I found hard to fight.

Currents of desire and excitement that she had not known or thought about for years now flooded in her. She wanted him to bring alive what she had buried, and to demean, destroy, her fabricated self.

The deeper into the sensation she went, beneath his weight and his urging, the more it was like going into a room of utter darkness, which she felt was familiar from a time before her birth; it was something other, or beyond; it was like death, or very near it.

In God's name, she thought, let the more loving one be someone else; for me it is beyond endurance.

No child or future generation will ever know what this was like. They will never understand. When it is over we will go quietly among the living and we will not tell them. We will talk and sleep and go about our business like human beings. We will seal what we have seen in the silence of our hearts and no words will reach us.

What is the most real thing you can think of?"] Jacques thought for a long time before answering; he tried to weigh up what was most vital and enduring in all that he had known. Eventually, no longer smiling, he said, 'Memory'.

I plunged my head under the water voluntarily...the physical shock took away the pain of being.

wisps. His voice rose higher in his excitement. 'And don't look so sceptical.

The problem with fear, though, is that it isn't any one thing. Fear has a whole taxonomy—anxiety, dread, panic, foreboding—and you could be braced for one form and completely fall apart facing another.

At any time and in any place I find moonlight very moving.

How could she have imagined he wasn't the one? The one she hid from and looked for. The one who held her and heard her and made her more alive, more in love, than she'd realized. The one who taught her how to trust in and lean on and sink into another person. The one who argued and angered, who stood firm and held tight, who kissed her and touched her and made her see the stars. Adam Grayson was the man she could depend on, could trust. Could love.

Cómo puede uno comer cuando el corazón está ocupado?

Let's assume there really is no such thing as happiness, no such thing as peace, and no freedom either. But there are kind of attacks of senseless ecstasy. Can this be me?

Passion isn't project-specific. It's people-specific.

Selling is about a transference of emotion, not a presentation of facts.

Consumers are not loyal to cheap commodities. They crave the unique, the remarkable, and the human.

Stories (not ideas, not features, not benefits) are what spread from person to person.

Art is the unique work of a human being, work that touches another.