Quotes About Feelings

I'm as provocative of tears as an onion!

Hatred, by a gradual and quiet process, will even be transformed to love, unless the change be impeded by a continually new irritation of the original feeling of hostility.

There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October. The sunshine is peculiarly genial; and in sheltered places, as on the side of a bank, or of a barn or house, one becomes acquainted and friendly with the sunshine. It seems to be of a kindly and homely nature. And the green grass, strewn with a few withered leaves, looks the more green and beautiful for them.

The words I speak, the phrases I weave together, are born from the very emotions I embody.

Love has made me a different person. It has made the world beautiful.

Because rain is the closest thing I have to tears.

I love you," he said. "Same here," she responded. "Now get lost.

But now we've finally taken full possession of what is rightfully ours, because everyone must feel their own pain--and as awful as that is, it's also wonderful.

Perhaps that is why we must, by law, keep a record. A public journal, testifying to those who will never die and those who are yet to be born, as to why we human beings do the things we do. We are instructed to write down not just our deeds but our feelings, because it must be known that we do have feelings. Remorse. Regret. Sorrow too great to bear. Because if we didn't feel those things, what monsters would we be?

With hardly any effort at all, she made me feel special. Just like all the other people she toyed with.

I love you, Risa, he says. Every last part of me.

We are instructed to write down not just our deeds but our feelings, because it must be known that we do have feelings. Remorse. Regret. Sorrow too great to bear. Because if we didn't feel those things, what monsters would we be?

The things I feel cannot be put into words, or if they can, the words are in no language anyone can understand.

and that dizzying gap between what she should feel and what she did feel was tearing her apart.

And besides, the human heart if rarely practical.

Affection and fondness were two different things.

The smile on my face is only there to mask what I'm feeling inside.

Remorse. Regret. Sorrow too great to bear. Because if we didn't feel those things, what monsters would we be?

Munira Atrushi, like most people in the world, had a job that was perfect in that it was perfectly ordinary. And like most every- one in the world, she didn't hate her job, nor did she love it. Her feelings lingered somewhere near the center.

Ce n'est que par les beaux sentiments qu'on parvient à la fortune.

She Speaks Of Love

I love you but don't know what to do.

I hated you when it would have taken less courage to love.

that's ONE thing that's wrong with intellectuals and writers - they don't feel a hell of a lot except their own comfort or their own pain. which is normal but shitty.