I’m always telling myself I don’t have many feelings. Even when something does affect me I’m only moderately moved. I almost never cry. It’s not that I’m stronger than the ones with teary eyes, I’m weaker. They have courage. When all you are is skin and bones, feelings are a brave thing. I’m more of a coward. The difference is minimal though, I just use my strength not to cry. When I do allow myself a feeling, I take the part that hurts and bandage it up with a story that doesn’t cry, that doesn’t dwell on homesickness.
It is these empty spaces you have to watch out for, as they flood up with feeling before you even realize what’s happened.
My dear, if heaven is truly a place, then it is situated in your heart, that special place, that was reserved for me.
She left me, offended at my want of sympathy, and thinking, no doubt, that I envied her. I did not – at least, I firmly believed I did not.
Missing someone enlightens how the person means to you and broadens the feelings shared.
She fucking turns me inside out.”
“Women who matter have a way of doing that.” Lucas scowled. “We sound like a couple of women, talking about feelings. I think Sascha’s having a bad influence on me.”
“You started it.
Unrequited love is the only emotion that allows sane people to taste the “life sentence
If passion was a substance I would say it is dark brown, and then blood red. It’s like wet grass, tons of it soaked in mud. It’s warm and it stinks like shit and it’s unaccountably and endlessly good. It’s thick and it goes on for miles and it isn’t so much deep as bottomless and it holds you in its grip, you never drown. And then it goes. That’s all you know.
(Quoted by Thomas Carlyle) The rude man requires only to see something going on. The man of more refinement must be made to feel. The man of complete refinement must be made to reflect.
Do you ever just sit there and cry, and you say Wow I had no idea I had this many feelings suppressed?