Quotes About Sentiment

I didn't mind what she called me, what anybody called me. But this was the room I had to live in. It was all I had in the way of a home. In it was everything that was mine, that had any association for me, any past, anything that took the place of a family. Not much: a few books, pictures, radio, chessmen, old letters, stuff like that. Nothing. Such as they were, they had all my memories.

Woolf disagrees, saying of the home, "For there we sit surrounded by objects which enforce the memories of our own experience.

I've been turning over in my mind the question of nostalgia, and whether I suffer from it. I certainly don't get soggy at the memory of some childhood knickknack; nor do I want to deceive myself sentimentally about something that wasn't even true at the time - love of the old school, and so on. But if nostalgia means the powerful recollection of strong emotions - and a regret that such feelings are no longer present in our lives - then I plead guilty.

But if nostalgia means the powerful recollection of strong emotions—and a regret that such feelings are no longer present in our lives—then I plead guilty.

Would you rather tear up your own expressions of love, or the ones you had received?

an?msanan hazlar kadar, an?msanan ac?lar konusunda da nostaljik olmak mümkün

But she would never forget Brodick... or the spontaneous kiss he'd given her that had meant nothing to him and everything to her.

Everyone there, having watched this demonic soul die, was immersed in deep sentiment, each in their own. Only the eye of the camera sitting there on the wall kept on watching. Void of all feeling, retaining perfect objectivity, it continued recording the cells in Kashiwada's body as they passed on from this world.

Roland was brave an romantic, and his speech imploring Lucinda to flee with him had filled Bronwyn's eyes with tears. I wish I knew a Roland. During her unpleasant season, she'd come to realise that the world was woefully short of Rolands.

They never reminisced about the time they had to drive halfway back to Indianapolis because I'd left Dexter Poindexter, my terry-cloth penguin (threadbare, ravaged by love—as who amongst us is not)

Hathos," I offered finally and then thoughtfully provided the definition. "The pleasure you get from hating something.

I wasn't happy, exactly, but I was remembering how happiness felt.

They only remembered the good times

The heart of a man is a wonderful thing, especially when it is carried in his wallet.

Religion is the moan of the oppressed creature, the sentiment of a heartless world, as it is the spirit of spiritless conditions. It is the opium of the people.

Feuerbach consequently does not see that the 'religious sentiment' is itself a social product, and that the abstract individual that he analyses belongs in reality to a particular social form.

Julia's vocabulary was chock-full of strangely archaic words - spiffing, crumbs, jeepers - that seemed to have originated in some prewar girls' annual rather than in Julia's own life. For Jackson, words were functional, they helped you get to places and explain things. For Julia, they were freighted with inexplicable emotion.

Base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them.

Baseball is a boy's game that makes grown men cry.

Let a man proclaim a new principle. Public sentiment will surely be on the other side.

Love with men is not a sentiment, but an idea.

Man is the will, and woman the sentiment. In this ship of humanity, Will is the rudder, and Sentiment the sail; when woman affects to steer, the rudder is only a masked sail.

But you can't truly hate a man without loving him first, and there's always a trace of that love left over.

The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him.