Quotes About Emotion

To say 'I love you' one must first be able to say the 'I.'

To say "I love you" one must know first how to say the "I".

Fear is exciting for me.

Il casco nasconde sentimenti che non possono essere compresi.

Joy with others is a sure antidote for depression. Anybody who suffers from depression is suffering from the lack of joy with others, the lack of sympathetic joy. One cannot always have joyful occasions, joyful thoughts in one's own life, but if one has joy with other people, one can surely find something to be happy about.

Imagine you are walking down a leafy path…The sun is receding, and you are walking alone, caressed by the breezy light of the late afternoon. Then suddenly, you feel a large drop on your right arm. Is it raining? You look up. The sky is still deceptively sunny…seconds later another drop. Then, with the sun still perched in the sky, you are drenched in a shower of rain. This is how memories invade me, abruptly and unexpectedly…

Sen benim keyfimin kâhyas? m?s?n? Ä°ster aÄŸlar?m, ister gene aÄŸlar?m.

Nobody loves me but my mother, and she could be jivin', too.

You did touch me but didn't feel my pain.

The blues was bleeding the same blood as me.

I'd solo on my guitar; then sing; then solo; then sing some more. one stopped when the other started. That way I felt a continuity, not a conflict, like a wheel that keeps turning. Both sounds - guitar and voice - were coming out of me, but they issued from different parts of my soul.

Nobody loves me but mama, and she may be jivin too.

I could see the blues was about survival.

As a little kid, blues meant hope, excitement, pure emotion. Blues were about feelings. They seem to bring out the feelings of the artist and they brought out my feelings as a kid. They made me wanna move, or sing, or pick up Reverend's guitar and figure out how to make those wonderful sounds.

The blues was bleeding the same blood as me. The blues didn't have to explain the mystery of pain that I felt; it was there in the songs and voices of singers like Lonnie Johnson and Blind Lemon Jefferson, in the cries of their guitars.

It angers me how scholars associate the blues strictly with tragedy.

A piece of music is an experience to be taken by itself.

Charles had not lived. So lately dead that the pain was still the pain of separation and not of total absence, his memory lay against her heart.

She angled her head to look up at him. Her blue eyes were huge in the moonlight. One tear still clung to her lash, looking like a shining jewel. He touched it with his fingertip and it dissolved, warm and wet into his skin. His gaze shifter to her bowshaped mouth. Her lips trembled, then parted. A soft mew of a sound escaped them. There was nothing to do but kiss her.

Her gaze locked with his and she felt her heart quicken. Slowly, he bent his head until his lips were only a breath away from her own. She couldn't breathe. Didn't dare. She thought she would die if he didn't kiss her.

If there's one thing I've learned it's what a woman can do to a man's common sense.

Had he only thought there was amazing chemistry between them?

I want you, too, Hayes Cardwell, and that isn't the beer talking." They were so close she could see the shine of his dark eyes in the starlight. Without another word, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the cabin.

DJ saw the change in his expression the moment before he dropped the ax, reached out with his gloved hand and, cupping her neck, drew her to him. "I believe you owe me a kiss.