The mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing. Isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination, consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing, and soul-crushing inadequacy. And that’s on a good day."[Academy Award ceremony, March 2, 2014]
Please don't give me words; give me a hug. Don't tell me that I'm holding up so well; break down with me and admit our shared wretchedness. Don't feign some bright mountaintop; walk with me through the dark valley where neither of us can utter a word.
You know, it's never wise to tempt the devil"His gaze lowered to her hand, still locked in his grip, her finger glistening with pear juice.His rich voice lowered to raw huskiness "had I not this mask, I should be of a mind to suck that juice right off your fingers
The classification of facts, the recognition of their sequence and relative significance is the function of science, and the habit of forming a judgment upon these facts unbiased by personal feeling is characteristic of what may be termed the scientific frame of mind.
That's disappointing," Nick said. "I was hoping to see you in action again. It's kind of sexy in a violent, perverted sort of way.""Gosh, knowing that makes my day complete.""I thought you'd want me to be open about my feelings now that we're married.
He knew that he’d known her for less than a week, but now that she was gone he was continually probing his feelings for her, the way he might probe a sore tooth with his tongue, engaging her in imaginary conversations, imagining her saying such delightful things.
Love is nothing but a Pentimento", she mumbled, not sure if he could hear her. "It looks like something from the outside, whie it's something totally different from the inside. And one can only understand this after some time, when the lie on the outside peels off.
Music, uniquely among the arts, is both completely abstract and profoundly emotional. It has no power to represent anything particular or external, but it has a unique power to express inner states or feelings. Music can pierce the heart directly; it needs no mediation.
He stared at Esmelda with a face like glass, nothing hidden. What I saw there wasn’t steel or fire or stone. Feelings stirred in me and I had to look away. I knew what I saw because I’d felt them, too — understanding, sadness, compassion...forgiveness.
Men who are afraid to feel must keep women around to do their feeling for them while dismissing us for the same supposedly "inferior" capacity to feel deeply. But in this way also, men deny themselves their own essential humanity, becoming trapped in dependency and fear.
I didn't want to be ordinary," I mumbled.My mother looked up. "What ordinary, Charley?""You know. Someone you forget."From the other room came the squeals of children. Miss Thelma turned her chin to the sound. She smiled,"That's what keeps me from being forgotten.
But in the hours that were really minutes, he didn't beg me not to leave. He didn't say he hadn't meant it. When I stood, his gaze just followed me up. Then I was a shattered blown-glass blue rose, and every step away from him made my shards clatter and chime.
I gave way to a wave of home-sickness that almost shames me now when I recollect it. I find it impossible in cold blood, and at this distance, to put into words the longing that shook me. I have forgotten the pain in the neck, but never will I forget the pain in my heart.
We tend to think that it’s up to others to respect our needs and fill them for us. But that doesn’t ever work, and for the following reason:If you have a hard time knowing what it is you really need, then how on earth can you logically expect someone else to know?
