Quotes About Sentiment

In the pursuit of the Ideal, happiness is the notice to the sentiment that it is following the right track, that it is accomplishing its destiny.

Emotion is just the juicier part of the thought.

I had a boyfriend once who sent me--in a plastic bag, so it wouldn't drip--a real cow's heart with a real arrow stuck through it. As you may divine, he knew I was interested in poetry.

It's an old word, fading now. Dearly did I wish. Dearly did I long for. I loved him dearly.

a girl takes too much time to love and a few seconds to hate. but a boy takes a few seconds to love and too much time to hate.

Having signed a few autographs in my time, I always wonder what the heck people do with them.

Music is the way our memories sing to us across time.

Memories just get richer with time.

She knew any reasonable person would say she should downsize, downgrade, sell her apartment, but that was if you thought of an apartment as real estate instead of a home. She didn't want to sell her home. She thought of it as the last link to the self she had once been.

knew, that for a birthday or a holiday or simply a dinner party offering, they could bring her a snow globe. Except that Dorothea was no longer charmed by snow

The shells] do not have the meaning they once did, but, as Swann said in Remembrance of Things Past, even when one is no longer attached to things, it's still something to have been attached to them. (22)

Going through a dead parent's memorabilia is a hazardous undertaking; there is a fine line between pleasure and pain.

It still makes me happy to think back to those words and that look

But I'm not sorry, memories mean more to me than dresses.

A finely carved Black Forest cuckoo clock hung just to the right of the hutch. Phil would love that, Reuben thought. Phil had once collected cuckoo clocks, and their constant chiming and tweeting and cooing had driven everybody at home a little nuts.

We are witnesses with both too much and too little feeling.

I like you both! And that's better than loving you, for that's expected, you know. But liking you, what a curious surprise.

She found herself staring at a tintype, a late-nineteenth-century photograph.

For one thing, she was quite astonishingly beautiful. Not at all in the common style, she was possessed of a thick mane of impossibly flame-colored hair, a tall, lush body of dangerous voluptuousness, and the warm, honey-colored eyes of a complete innocent. That red hair called to him, a siren lure, but he assumed it was only nostalgia and misplaced sentiment. Not that he'd ever been known to possess those two qualities.

I've always had a talent for recognizing when I am in a moment worth being nostalgic for.

I would stare at that strange picture, kissing it and crying over it, happy because once it had been true.

that's the essence of me - I don't think, I feel - at best, I think-feel...

The town was paper, but the memories were not.

I have so much of you in my heart.