It was a limitation of human consciousness: We live only in the future and past, we cannot perceive now. Now occupies no space, a hypothetical gap between future and past. Only an exceptional few could feel now athletes and jazzmen and, yes, thieves...
I don't feel like a person at all: I am something to be loaded and unloaded, like a sofa or a cuckoo clock. I am something to be tossed into a junkyard, thrown into the river, if necessary. I don't feel real anymore. I feel like I could disappear.
That was the thing about words, they were clear and specific--chair, eye, stone--but when you talked about feelings, words were too stiff, they were this and not that, they couldn't include all the meanings. In defining, they always left something out.
What we don't let out traps us. We think, No one else feels this way, I must be crazy. So we don't say anything. And we become enveloped by a deep loneliness, not knowing where our feelings come from or what to do with them. Why do I feel this way?
It was unnerving. She'd looked at him and had the uncontrollable urge to weep. Thus far she'd managed to control her emotions. Thank God. She didn't even want to imagine what he would think of her if she started weeping for absolutely no reason.
Want to talk about it?" I asked gently.He smirked at me. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm a guy. We don't do that." My nose scrunched up in confusion. "We don't discuss our feelings.""That's a relief; I don't want to talk about it either.
We ought to punish pitilessly that shameful pretence of friendly intercourse. I like a man to be a man, and to show on all occasions the bottom of his heart in his discourse. Let that be the thing to speak, and never let our feelings be beneath vain compliments
It's like an emotional dance party: Some dances will be your favorites -- others more awkward or difficult to learn. Some will be boring or make you mad. some you will wish you never needed to do again. But AHA! You think. I will dance all the dances I can.
When a tender affection has been storing itself in us through many of our years, the idea that we could accept any exchange for it seems to be a cheapening of our lives. And we can set a watch over our affections and our constancy as we can over other treasures.
Was it possible to fall for someone you’d met only once and communicated with only through phone, chat, and text? I had sleepless nights wondering, and every time I thought about it, the answer was yes, yes, yes! And I refused to think of it as infatuation.
My eyes were blurry from being in love, and my feelings were as furry as Bigfoot. I thought I spotted Her, the women of my dreams, but the other cryptozoologists thought I was hallucinating. They chided me saying, “If there is no picture, there is no proof.
If two people truly have feelings for one another then they don’t have an affair. They get a divorce and they sort out their feelings. You are accountable for the people you hold hostage in a marriage when your mind and heart refuse to fully commit to them.
Every once in a while she'll get worked up and cry like that. But that's ok. She's letting her feelings out. The scary thing is not being able to do that. Then your feelings build up and harden and die inside. That's when you're in big trouble.
In some parallel universe, there was a Gansey who could tell Blue that he found the ten inches of her bare calves far more tantalizing than the thirteen cubic feet of bare skin Orla sported. But in this universe, that was Adam’s job. He was in a terrible mood.
I'm glad I'm feeling this way. I'm really glad."Dr. Keyes looked rather dismayed. "Really, sweetheart?""Yes. And I don't want to let it go. Not yet. I'm just starting to feel it. And it feels...I don't know. Right, I guess. Maybe even...good.
