Quotes About Bottled-up

Chris will not talk," she said. "He will keep everything in his heart, and later it will burst.

'Lose My Cool' is the second track on my EP dedicated to a stage in the grieving process. This track represents anger. I really bottled a lot up after my mother passed, and one day, I couldn't handle it anymore and just exploded on all of my friends and family. It was a very passive way of dealing with things, not very healthy.

I wear my emotions on my sleeve. If I keep that bottled up, it's not going to be good. It's all going to come out at some point in time. I would rather it come out in little bits and pieces than me try to hold it in.

The fact that he had foamed at the mouth immediately upon dying, indicated that he had a great back jam of wishes and desires and truths that were never spoken...out bubbled all the words he had swallowed when he was alive.

When I was a girl my mother said I chattered like a magpie even in my sleep, as if I knew one day the words would all be stopped, wine corked up in a bottle.

Too many things to say. Too many things unsaid.

You have so much love to give. It must hurt to hold it in all the time.

Maybe when you put tears away uncried, everything you cry about from that day on contains a little of those tears. Whether you wanted them released or not.

I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.

If you haven't heard him...man, it's like he boiled down down all the melancholy in the world, all the bruises and all the fucked-up dreams you've let go, and poured the essence into a little tiny bottle and corked it up.

It's been so long since I've let myself feel anger that I don't just feel it. It covers my mouth and I swallow it down, the taste sharp and metal as though I'm gnawing through foilware.

We Scots, Rebus thought, we're not very good at going public. We store up our true feelings like fuel for long winter nights of whisky and recrimination. So little of us ever reaches the surface, it's a wonder we exist at all.

All the emotions she had bottled up in the last year came spilling out in that kiss. She had forgotten how it felt to be held and wanted. It was as if someone had opened her heart and let out some of the pain.

thinks, as she lifts the plates, to miss the pain and anguish of one person, if that person keeps quiet, if he keeps it all in, like a bottle stoppered too tightly, the pressure inside building and building, until—what?