Quotes About Feelings

Love is not a one-size-fits-all emotion; there are as many different kinds of love as there are people.

I made myself say the name, at least in my own head. My therapist said I felt guilty about his death. Damn straight I did.

I had myself under control again. I wasn't going to cry. I was glad. I hated to cry. It always made me feel so weak.

But one thing I'd learned in therapy was that just because a feeling made no sense didn't make you stop feeling it.

You should hear what that creep told her. He was in love, she was the only one he'd ever felt like this about, she was the most beautiful girl in the world-- you know." I don't, actually. No boy has ever said those words to me. But I nod as if one has.

O how I envied him his feelings!

It doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts except the small smiles and blushes that flash across the room like tiny sparrows.

I am learning how to be angry and sad and lonely and joyful and excited and afraid and happy.

All that crap you hear on TV about communication and expressing feelings is a lie. Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.

Melancholy held me hostage, and the bees built a hive of sadness in my soul.

Shame, turned inside out, is rage.

I know how bad you feel. Trapped, she says. It gets better, I promise. So much better.

I could never hate you, even if I wanted to.

Mr. Freeman thinks I need to find my feelings. How can I not find them? They are chewing me alive like an infestation of thoughts, shame, mistakes. I squeeze my eyes shut. Jeans that fit, that's a good start. I have to stay away from the closet, go to all my classes. I will make myself normal. Forget the rest of it

The next time you work on your trees, don't think about trees. Think about love, or hate, or joy, or rage-- whatever makes you feel something, makes your palms sweat or your toes curl.

Art without emotion is like chocolate cake without sugar. It makes you gag. When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.

It is easier not to say anything. Shut your trap, button your lip, can it. All that crap you hear on TV about communication and expressing feelings is a lie. Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.   Mr.

Dr. StupidParker says that when I'm sad it really means I'm angry and when I'm angry it really means I'm afraid.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that my feelings towards the little man were distinctly maternal. Good God, I thought, how utterly revolting, and I turned my mind firmly to the problem at hand.

He was always inclined to be a moody man, very exuberant when things were going right, very depressed when they weren't.

An artist does not have a personal life as we do, he hides it, forcing us to go to his books if we wish to touch the true source of his feelings. Underneath all his preoccupations with sex, society, religion, etc. (all the staple abstractions which allow the forebrain to chatter) there is, quite simply, a man tortured beyond endurance by the lack of tenderness in the world.

I suppose events are simply a sort of annotation of our feelings--the one might be deduced from the other. Time carries us (boldly imagining that we are discrete ego's modeling our own personal futures)--time carries us forward by the momentum of those feelings inside us of which we ourselves are least conscious.

When I am happy I feel like crying, but when I am sad I don't feel like laughing. I think it is better to be happy; then you get two feelings for the price of one.

If there's one thing I really love... it's sad music.