Best 9217 quotes in «feelings quotes» category

Good things have different colors, it’s like a rainbow or flowers and it’s more likely how I feel for my love ones that creates a joyous melody in my heart. How it makes me feel happy and alive

good people bring the good out of people

Gosto do que não tem fim. Gosto de coisas que não terminam.

Greatness in the making feels just like you feel right now. Time will soon tell.

Grief, however, creates a strange sensitivity. The world is too intense to tolerate: a veil, a drink, another anesthetic is required to blot out the ache of what remains. One sees too much and feels it, as Robert Lowell puts it, "with one skin-layer missing.

Had I told the sea What I felt for you, It would have left its shores, Its shells, Its fish, And followed me.

Half the time he felt entirely out of control. Half the time he threw up walls out of fear. And half the time he opted out of life before anyone had the chance to discard him. No matter that the math didn’t add up, it was just how he felt.

Happiness is a feeling/emotion, but Joy is state of 'being'. One does not depend on your external circumstances, the other does.

Happiness has its source in positive feelings, while joy has its source in Jesus.

Happiness is like a genre of music that nearly everyone knows how to dance to. Happiness has a very simple tempo, catchy phrasing, and memorable lyrics. It's the song at the wedding that makes everyone excited to run to the dance floor.

Haunted by the longing to feel something real, deep and magical; I searched for shared ecstasy... that's when you came along.

Have you ever noticed several outspoken people who seem to care about feeling offended do not give a damn about anyone else's feelings or safety?

Having begun to feel, people’s desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how it sometimes hurt. People became addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions.

Having your feelings hurt are only the tip of the iceberg. You need to dive to deeper depths to find the reasons why?

Healing our wounds requires that we be willing to feel all of the uncomfortable emotions that lie within them.

Hay que aprender a pasar la vida balanceando el peso que cargamos y nuestros sentimientos.

Having writers block sucks more than my actual writing. And my writing would be astonishing if I could write how I feel.

Heaven has never been a place, heaven is just a feeling...

He: Cabbage is disgusting. She: Oh? He: Yeh! Gross stuff.Can't stand it. I haven't had it since I was a kid. She: Oh? *She is silent as he eats his hot-dog with sauerkraut and coleslaw. Judge not the cabbage for it has many forms. Judge not the person for they have many aspects.

He clearly suffers from some past traumas too, so hopefully he'll understand why I was untruthful to him about mine.

he'd rather get shot than navigate all these...feelings.

he finds a forest in what he feels

He in any form was a drug to the addiction of being desired while she was always wanted.

He felt life more clearly too—even, perhaps especially, when he came to decide that it wasn't worth the candle.

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.

He honestly believed, for an instant, that what he'd heard was music-a tune piped, a burble of notes, a little scrap of melody floating by on wind and breaking his heart.

He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.

Hello? Do you see me? I'm working as creatively as possible and you want more and more and I'm out of juice and if you send me one more email I'm going to walk into the ocean and swallow water.

He made me feel the infinite number of feelings, In which I lost myself.

He longed for her more than he could say. It was a wonderful thing to be able to truly want someone like this –the feeling was so real, so overpowering. He hadn’t felt this way in ages. Maybe he never had before. Not that everything about it was wonderful: his chest ached, he found it hard to breathe, and a fear, a dark oscillation, had hold of him. But now even that kind of ache had become an important part of the affection he felt. He didn’t want to let that feeling slip from his grasp. Once lost, he might never happen across that warmth again. If he had to lose it, he would rather lose himself.

He looked upwards at the brilliant blue sky. It was high noon because the sun was right overhead. The clouds danced around slowly, while drifting across the sky. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the sun glowing orange on his eyelids. It was a wonderful feeling.

Hence the migratory bird was about to leave then the other bird just querked and weeped

Here Me You Eternally End

Her feelings were very acute, and too little understood to be properly attended to. Nobody meant to be unkind, but nobody put themselves out of their way to secure her comfort.

Here is the voice of my main Character in my Talon book series, I’ll let her introduce herself to you: My name is Matica and I am a special needs child with a growth disability. I am stuck in the body of a two year old, even though I am ten years old when my story begins in the first book of the Talon series, TALON, COME FLY WITH ME. Because of that disability, (I am saying ‘that’ disability, not ‘my’ disability because it’s a thing that happens to me, nothing more and because I am not accepting it as something bad. I can say that now after I learned to cope with it.) I was rejected by the local Indians as they couldn’t understand that that condition is not a sickness and so it can’t be really cured. It’s just a disorder of my body. But I never gave up on life and so I had lots of adventures roaming around the plateau where we live in Peru, South America, with my mother’s blessings. But after I made friends with my condors I named Tamo and Tima, everything changed. It changed for the good. I was finally loved. And I am the hero and I embrace my problem. In better words: I had embraced my problem before I made friends with my condors Tamo and Tima. I held onto it and I felt sorry for myself and cried a lot, wanting to run away or something worse. But did it help me? Did it become better? Did I grow taller? No, nothing of that helped me. I didn’t have those questions when I was still in my sorrow, but all these questions came to me later, after I was loved and was cherished. One day I looked up into the sky and saw the majestic condors flying in the air. Here and now, I made up my mind. I wanted to become friends with them. I believed if I could achieve that, all my sorrow and rejection would be over. And true enough, it was over. I was loved. I even became famous. And so, if you are in a situation, with whatever your problem is, find something you could rely on and stick to it, love that and do with that what you were meant to do. And I never run from conflicts.

Her, enveloped in the smell of the snow, and her cold fingertips, and the sound of the black clouds drifting through the sky so high above, and her heart, and my feelings, and our apartment. . . The snow soaks up every sound. Only the sounds of the train she rides reach my pricked-up ears. I . . . and probably she, too . . . like this world, I think.

Her gaze traveled across the western sky that was dotted with clouds and was held by the wintry looking sun, so pure, so lovely, and so impossible to touch. Sheila felt that that was how her love was - Out of reach, unquestionably warm, and as certain as the celestial ball.

He rolled his eyes and took my hand. His hand was hard and calloused, tough with muscle and old scars. The night settled around us like a blanket. I could hear the water lapping against the dock. We were totally alone. “You’re . . . ,” he began, and I waited, heart throbbing in my throat. “Such a pain,” he concluded. “What?” I asked, just as his head swooped in and his mouth touched mine. I tried to speak, but one of Fang’s hands held the back of my head, and he kept his lips pressed against me, kissing me softly but with a Fanglike determination. Oh, jeez, I thought distractedly. Jeez, this is Fang, and me, and . . . Fang tilted his head to kiss me more deeply, and I felt totally lightheaded. Then I remembered to breathe through my nose, and the fog cleared a tiny bit. Somehow we were pressed together, Fang’s arms around me now, sliding under my wings, his hands flat against my back. It was incredible. I loved it. I loved him. It was a total disaster. Gasping, I pulled back. “I, uh—,” I began oh so coherently, and then I jumped up, almost knocking him over, and raced down the dock. I took off, flying fast, like a rocket.

Her thoughts are full of other things just now; and people have such different ways of showing feeling: some by silence, some by words.

Her today's silence is the unheard shouts from past that you never listened.

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.

He took a step closer. "I don't know if I'll ever get you out of my system, not completely. I have this... feeling. That you'll always be there. Here." Conrad clawed at his heart and then dropped his hand.

Her endless, futile attempts to make her feelings known fell on stony ground. Slowly she retreated into the darkness where her dreams became reality and reality faded into the deep recesses of her soul....

He was aware of the shadow that had descended on his heart, but he couldn’t say where it had come from or why.

He wanted to say that all this talk of feelings was irrelevant. That emotions come and go and can't be controlled, so there's no reason to worry about them. That in the end, people should be judged by their actions, since in the end, it was actions that defined everyone.

He wasn't normally conscious of it, but there was one part of his body that was extremely sensitive, somewhere along his back. This soft, subtle spot he couldn't reach was usually covered by something, so that it was invisible to the naked eye. But when, for whatever reason, that spot became exposed and someone's finger pressed down on it, something inside him would stir. A special substance would be secreted, swiftly carried by his bloodstream to every corner of his body. That special stimulus was both a physical sensation and a mental one, creating vivid images in his mind. The first time he met Sara, he felt an anonymous finger reach out and push down forcefully on that trigger on his back. The day they met they talked for a long time, though he couldn't recall much of what they said. What he did recall was the special feeling on his back, and the indefinably thrilling sensation it brought to his mind and body. One part of him relaxed, one part tightened up. That sort of feeling. But what did it mean? Tsukuru thought about it for days, but he was not, by nature, adept at abstract thinking. So Tsukuru emailed Sara and invited her to dinner. He was determined to find out the meaning of that feeling, of that sensation.

He was one of those rare people, rare in our town as elsewhere, who have the courage of their good feelings. What little he told of his personal life vouched for acts of kindness and a capacity for affection that no one in our times dares own to.

His pulse races under my palms. "Was there ever. . .between us, was there ever something?" I say. He shakes his head. "Just for me. But you were always Noah's." "I don't want to be." He doesn't say anything.

He wore the evidence of thinking all over his face, open and easy to read. Leah envied him that confidence to show what he was feeling.

hide your feelings, hide you thoughts, hide your self from the world but dont hide you from you cause only you know where you stand & the world's knows nothing