Quotes About Feelings

You can empathize without sympathizing.

Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.

The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more.

Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.

How strange, she thought, that she could hate and love in the same breath.

saw the hurt in his eyes. It made me feel like someone was squeezing water out of my heart.

If there are two feelings, then I don't think you can put them in separate compartments ever, because one is a part of the other and inseparable.

Andrew aveva preso dimora nel suo cuore o si era preso una parte del suo cuore, e niente sarebbe stato più come prima.

Devi avere un ottimo controllo sui tuoi sentimenti visto che li rigiri come più ti piace. Vorrei esserne capace anch'io. Qual è il segreto?»

All the conflicting feeling inside her suddenly found an outlet. The mixed motives for asking him in—the liking, the affection, the feminine curiosity, the piqued pride—suddenly merged into indignation to keep out something stronger. She was as much alarmed at her own feelings as indignant with him, but the situation had to be saved somehow.

ancient Greek saying, 'Love as if you shall hereafter hate, and hate as if you shall hereafter love.

Daj mi teraz marzy?, daj - i ju? nikt nie wie, co jest realne, a czego w ogóle nie ma, gdzie prawda, gdzie zÅ'uda, co siÄ™ czuje, czego siÄ™ nie czuje, gdzie naturalno??, a gdzie sztuczno??, zgrywa i to, co powinno by?, miesza siÄ™ z tym, co nieubÅ'agane jest, i jedno i drugie dyskwalifikuje, jedno drugiemu odbiera wszelkÄ… racjÄ™ bytu, o, wielka szkoÅ'o nierzeczywistoÅ›ci.

If people could see into my heart, I should almost feel ashamed - all there is cold, cold as ice.

La pregunta Escena II LINCOLN: La guerra no tiene nada que ver. Es mi sensibilidad hacia los sentimientos humanos.

Justo castigo La vida es un auténtico caos, pensé. Los sentimientos resultan tan imprevisibles. ¿Cómo es posible que alguien soporte permanecer casado durante cuarenta años? Parece un milagro mayor que el paso del mar Rojo, aunque mi padre, en su ingenuidad, sostenga que es esto último un logro de mayor envergadura.

What she seemed to mean was that knowing how much I loved Dylan, she was embarking on a plan to see to it I would not be able to see her anymore. Dylan's feelings wouldn't matter. The loss of her father, whom she loved, wouldn't matter. She would be used to exact revenge.

Then a few more days and boom, green is everywhere and spring has come to Manhattan and in Central Park you see blossoms and petals unfolding and the air smells of nostalgia and you want to kill yourself. Why? Because it's too beautiful to handle; the pineal gland secretes Unspeakable Melancholy Juice, and you don't know where to put all those feelings that are stampeding inside and God forbid at that point your love life is not going too well. Get the revolver.

Hay un desprendimiento liberador en el acto de romper las hojas que uno ha escrito, acaso por haber notado en ellas la desnudez obscena de un par de sentimientos. Existe una soberbia mojigata remojada en pudores melancólicos detrás de la sospecha de que cuanto escribimos hace pocas semanas nos hace ver como unos cursis infumables: pornógrafos del sentimiento.

Qué lástima que mis mejores sentimientos me hagan vomitar. La gente se enamora y no vomita, por eso se envenena.

Desde cuándo los sentimientos meramente irracionales precisan de razones para joderle a uno la existencia? Amar es soñar con mares en mitad de un largo insomnio

My feelings can perhaps be imagined, but they can hardly be described.

The more I think about myself, the more I'm persuaded that, as a person, I really don't exist. That is one of the reasons why I can't believe in any orthodox religion: I cannot believe in my own soul. No, I am a chemical compound, conditioned by environment and education. My "character" is simply a repertoire of acquired tricks, my conversation a repertoire of adaptations and echoes, my "feelings" are dictated by purely physical, external stimuli.

Most of us have small, sad places somewhere in our hearts and my father was no exception. Sometimes we let our feelings escape in bursts of anger. Sometimes we make long, dismal faces. My father did neither. He felt deeply but he kept his feelings to himself. Or rather, being a writer, he let them escape in his writing. But even here he disguised them, unable even in fiction to allow himself to take himself too seriously.

Mortals have always exaggerated the difference between hate and love. Both come from the heart. You can never hate strongly unless you have loved strongly.