Best 9217 quotes in «feelings quotes» category

How about we never talk about what happened and why I feel the way I feel. We just pretend that everything is fine and I just scrub myself red every night, allowing my mind and body to retreat into oblivion. Yup sounds like the perfect plan.

Hope was a fool’s emotion.

How can I shut down If you don't open up??

How can Sophie hate Josh tonight when Friday morning she loved him?' I ask. What I mean is How can I have had such strong feelings for Ethan when now I don't know what I feel aside from overwhelming mortification?

How can you meet and speak to any human being and not have feelings for them? This whole world is nothing if you feel nothing.

How could it be possible that there were that many nerve endings all in one place?

How do you love someone and just… walk away? Just like that. You just, go on as normal…. You get up, get dressed, go to work… How can you do that? How can you be okay with that?

How hard it is to now believe that these strong, merciless chains of fear and hopelessness, rendering the limbs of my mind motionless, were once innocuous mere threads.” -Mehul.M

how is it that he's always in my thoughts. even when i am not thinking.

How I wish I could undo it all … take it all back… All those years I spent unhappy with him …. when I should have been looking for you.

How many times did we pass each other before we met? If only I’d known…. I would have searched for you endlessly. If only I’d found you before it was already too late.

How strange and ironic it is- all the words i long to say are lost in words.

How terrible it was to still be mentally and emotionally attached to someone from whom you have been physically separated.

How we feel is not who we are. We might feel like failures, but as long as we are still trying, we are not failures. We are works in progress.

Human emotions have deep evolutionary roots, a fact that may explain their complexity and provide tools for clinical practice. The Nature of Emotions (2001)

Human love can be only a pale reflection of the emotion that God must feel for what He has created

Humanity smacks me the taste of human psyche and prejudice, being part of human nature. Humans believe that they have a right to decide on behalf of all creatures and make laws for them. Love is more preferred word to replace humanity, it incorporates feelings of all creatures in comparison to humanity, which is only humane.

Humans are moving into a new phase, one based on the knowledge that talking about their feelings has never got them anywhere.

humans lack good mirrors. It's so hard for anyone to show us how we look, and so hard for us to show anyone how we feel

Humility and shame have been confused. Humility is knowing that you know nothing for sure and shame is someone having to tell you.

I absolutely, positively hate this beautiful, magical feeling.

I always am in a role, lovely – for you, for them – even for myself. Yeah... Even when I’m alone, I am still in a role – and I myself am the most exacting audience I have ever had.

I am a poet at heart, My only companion is- words. I vent my emotions out in them, I cry, I laugh, I woe, I crave, I pray; in words. But when the feeling is so intense. Words itself fail me! I have nothing to write..

I am a terrible judge of character'  "I don't think so. You just need to take note of FACTS from the outset, not feelings.

I am a very bad scientist. I will do anything to make a human being feel better, even if it's unscientific.

I am feeling like in a movie feeling his closeness feeling when he is coming and how his look on me is This called something may like inspiration the observation of existence which agree with our being I am feeling like a grenade without fuse with a desire of crying and explosion and I am just waiting on a right moment when I will hit on my chest and scrape out our names

I am filled time and again with a heart-aching wonder when I think of the fire and frost of memories of the everlastingness of love the solace of family and the power of prayer.

I am in Love with you, it’s me who is in love with you not you, I am in love with you. Not in a way I wanted to but yeah the way I am fond to Hey I am in love with you, not treating you like I wanted to but just being the one that thought of to yeah I am in love with you, Loving you was the secrete I wanted to keep and buried deep inside my emotional heap, Doing everything possible what I had to But baby it hurts as it hurts you too, but yeah still I am in love with you, Pulled myself million times because I got the wrong vibes all the time, But the truth remains the same baby hear me as I am in love with you, Waiting on you I could see people were laughing on me I knew all the while you weren't near me. But you should know that I am in love with you There were some days I missed you a lot and scared to tell you how i feel cold and hot for you as I am in love with you is the only dream And then I am in love with you I remember I have cried to sleep and bagged myself to keep you away from the highest steep the voice that said from within me I am in love with you Just I LOVE YOU was the only words I wanna hear from you even while knowing, you don’t mean to Because simply I feel the way I wanted to Loving to say I am in love with you. wake up in the morning with only you in my mind till I sleep at deep way in the night I know its all silly things for your kind but its perfect to me as clearly - deeply in love with you When you being nice to me that scares me sometimes but bottom in my heart it feels so nice because during that time I am in love with you, Doesn't matter whatever I do with you even things i have never done before and i enjoyed them all because simply as I am in love with you. In the first waiting on you was the favorite thing in my day weather it s a call or just a look from you from the farthest bay I asked myself why and the voice within me said that I am in love with you.

I am not bothered by the silence. For all the noise I make with my friends, I am still not comfortable talking about my feelings in front of others - especially not classmates.

I am the kind of person who, if my feelings are unrequited, can completely detach from someone emotionally if I simply put my mind to it.

I am not a victim of circumstance, situation, nor any external condition of life. I am an active participant in the creation of my reality, meaning, I am actively participating in the creation of what I think, what I feel, what I spend my time on, who I spend my time with, what I consume mentally and physically, and all the blessings and contrastive experiences that come my way. Every effect has a cause and every cause has an effect, all of which include me because it is my life to live, my life to use, and my life to enjoy.

I am not always capable of expressing myself to you, but I can always feel your deep desires.

I am speaking of the evenings when the sun sets early, of the fathers under the streetlamps in the back streets returning home carrying plastic bags. Of the old Bosphorus ferries moored to deserted stations in the middle of winter, where sleepy sailors scrub the decks, pail in hand and one eye on the black-and-white television in the distance; of the old booksellers who lurch from one ϧnancial crisis to the next and then wait shivering all day for a customer to appear; of the barbers who complain that men don’t shave as much after an economic crisis; of the children who play ball between the cars on cobblestoned streets; of the covered women who stand at remote bus stops clutching plastic shopping bags and speak to no one as they wait for the bus that never arrives; of the empty boathouses of the old Bosphorus villas; of the teahouses packed to the rafters with unemployed men; of the patient pimps striding up and down the city’s greatest square on summer evenings in search of one last drunken tourist; of the broken seesaws in empty parks; of ship horns booming through the fog; of the wooden buildings whose every board creaked even when they were pashas’ mansions, all the more now that they have become municipal headquarters; of the women peeking through their curtains as they wait for husbands who never manage to come home in the evening; of the old men selling thin religious treatises, prayer beads, and pilgrimage oils in the courtyards of mosques; of the tens of thousands of identical apartment house entrances, their facades discolored by dirt, rust, soot, and dust; of the crowds rushing to catch ferries on winter evenings; of the city walls, ruins since the end of the Byzantine Empire; of the markets that empty in the evenings; of the dervish lodges, the tekkes, that have crumbled; of the seagulls perched on rusty barges caked with moss and mussels, unϩinching under the pelting rain; of the tiny ribbons of smoke rising from the single chimney of a hundred-yearold mansion on the coldest day of the year; of the crowds of men ϧshing from the sides of the Galata Bridge; of the cold reading rooms of libraries; of the street photographers; of the smell of exhaled breath in the movie theaters, once glittering aϱairs with gilded ceilings, now porn cinemas frequented by shamefaced men; of the avenues where you never see a woman alone after sunset; of the crowds gathering around the doors of the state-controlled brothels on one of those hot blustery days when the wind is coming from the south; of the young girls who queue at the doors of establishments selling cut-rate meat; of the holy messages spelled out in lights between the minarets of mosques on holidays that are missing letters where the bulbs have burned out; of the walls covered with frayed and blackened posters; of the tired old dolmuşes, ϧfties Chevrolets that would be museum pieces in any western city but serve here as shared taxis, huϫng and puϫng up the city’s narrow alleys and dirty thoroughfares; of the buses packed with passengers; of the mosques whose lead plates and rain gutters are forever being stolen; of the city cemeteries, which seem like gateways to a second world, and of their cypress trees; of the dim lights that you see of an evening on the boats crossing from Kadıköy to Karaköy; of the little children in the streets who try to sell the same packet of tissues to every passerby; of the clock towers no one ever notices; of the history books in which children read about the victories of the Ottoman Empire and of the beatings these same children receive at home; of the days when everyone has to stay home so the electoral roll can be compiled or the census can be taken; of the days when a sudden curfew is announced to facilitate the search for terrorists and everyone sits at home fearfully awaiting “the oϫcials”; CONTINUED IN SECOND PART OF THE QUOTE

I barely even know how I didn't feel. I didn't feel like reading a newspaper, or having a coffee, or going for a jog, or watching television. Nor did I feel like crying behind the boiler in the basement. Or like trying out for something. I did't even feel like I had lost someone I deeply loved; this was different from that. I didn't feel like going to another movie and asking for extra butter on my popcorn. I didn't feel like talking to someone who would understand.

I believe having a healthy emotional will help in your ability to communicate and to connect to others. We have to learn how to express our feelings especially the negative ones.

I begin to feel this tension when things that doesn't worth attention are the things that attracts attention

I believe that thoughts and feelings reside on the same nerve-ending…they are called heartstrings

I believe we give feelings permission to live in our hearts by whether we choose to think upon such things or not. The more we think about certain matters the greater impact they effect, until they can tend to obsess us.

I bruise easily and sometimes I can’t stop bleeding.

I can’t control my feelings, but I’m learning to have a say in how much my feelings control me.

I can feel a cool breeze.

I cannot perceive that you're still a girl. Ur kisses don't seem so innocent. They just drive me crazy!" #MilanoVeneziani. #ItalianPassion

I can't know your feelings", he said ,"if you don't know them yourself.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up in a cold sweat thinking I’m being chased by a grunting, disfigured man wielding a hatchet. Usually we're at an abandoned campground, which leads me to believe this is a subconscious mashup of Friday the 13th and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. He never catches me. The only thing that ever happens is I'm running and he's chasing. It's pretty horrible. I know it’s not real, but it feels real, and you know how feelings are. They make everything real.

Cariad, nothing about this is casual to me. But if you want a long, sensitive discussion about my feelings, I can't help you. I'm from North Wales, where we express ourselves by throwing rocks at trees. I've had more feelings in the past half-hour that I have in my entire life, and I'm at my limit." "That still doesn't -" "I love whatever it is you're made of. All of it.

I closed my eyes and turned my face into the cold wind. When I felt it swept along my skin there was no past. No future. Just now.

I chose love today and every single day.

I couldn't bear the thought of Alex looking at me like I was a freak. It was bad enough that the looked at me as Jack's sister.

I could see the longing in your eyes.

I couldn’t sleep without you. Not because I needed you, but because your body was a temperature I was used to being next to.