When you showed someone how you felt, it was fresh and honest. When you told someone how you felt, there might be nothing behind the words but habit or expectation.

To be CREATIVE, you have to be CRAZY, not because you're CRAZY or want others to become CRAZY, but because you must be CRAZY, before others become CRAZY for you.

Does anyone ever cry and you know you've been hurt.You know you should feel an achy feeling in your heart, but you feel nothing. You just cry, and can't stop?

It was freaky how once you realized you loved someone, and they felt the same way about you, they could look different, yet the same; how they felt familiar, but not.

The moment when you dream of someone deeply at night and in the morning you see that person staring and smiling at you.For me there is no word to express that feeling.

For I chase but one hind, he says, one strange deer timid and wild, and she leads me off the paths that other men have trod, and by myself into the depths of the wood.

Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt. Lies. Words hurt. The words we remember. Well, the hurt feeling the words caused stays with us forever.

There was something horribly depressing, she felt, about watching the weather report. That life could be planned like the perfect summer picnic drained it of spontaneity.

We cultivate our feelings the way we cultivate a garden: we can't entirely prevent weeds from coming up, but we can take care to remove them before they do much harm.

I am filled time and againwith a heart-aching wonder when I thinkof the fireand frost of memoriesof the everlastingnessof lovethe solace of familyand the power of prayer.

We want to develop the nationWe want to develop the stateWe want to develop the society,But very few of us wants let the neighbor grow.Then how could the world will grow.

I don't want to lose you, I love you, and…and that's all I've got.”As speeches went, it wasn't great. As feelings went…different story.

Feelings do not grow old along with the body. Feelings form part of a world I don’t know, but it’s a world where there’s no time, so space, no frontiers.

The junkie ignites his feelings with ugly synthetic substances, and the emotions that were meant to last for a lifetime burn away in full force in a couple of short years.

They weren't tears of sadness or even tears of joy. I was just overflowing. Like so many things since I'd been here, I didn't yet understand it, but I felt it.