Best 9217 quotes in «feelings quotes» category

A performance must capture or communicate with the mood and feelings of that very moment.

Apalah yang bisa pasti dari perasaan manusia?

A performance does not capture or communicate with the mood and feelings of that very moment.

A person doesn't feel, then act; rather, he acts, then feels. Change actions to change feelings.

A person who is another man's slave is better than one who is a slave to lust.

A poem shouldn't just give melody; it should give meaning.

A relationship that is not actively nurtured dies out eventually, I told myself. Or does it?

Are those feelings? Get them away from me.

Are we looking for the absolute truth or the absolute feeling? Or the answer that best suits our personal needs?

Are you all right?" The question surprised Jess, and it broke through his black shell enough to make him throw a look at his friend. "No." I didn't think you were. Everyone wants you to be. That must be worse, that they think you should be fine.

Are you in pain?' I asked, because I know that everything in the world that matters shows up as some kind of pain. Or pang. Joy included.

Ariel: "Why do such stories always sound so sad? Why can't people part on more amiable terms?" Danny: "Human nature," he said. "When feelings change and a person is at their most insecure, it's a matter of personal survival, I think. It's not always meant to hurt, but it often does.

Arrogant. Overconfident. Vain. Impossible. She hated the way he refused to leave her alone, how he took her insults the same way other boys might take a compliment, and that his interest in her was clearly only part of his role. And yet she could never seem to push him away.

As a devil's advocate Mr Neville was faultless. And yet, she knew, there was a flaw in his reasoning, just as there was a flaw in his ability to feel.

As adults, we hvae many inhibitions against crying. We feel it is an expression of weakness, or femininity or of childishness. The person who is afraid to cry is afraid of pleasure. This is because the person who is afraid to cry holds himself together rigidly so that he won't cry; that is, the rigid person is as afraid of pleasure as he is afraid to cry. In a situation of pleasure he will become anxious. As his tensions relax he will begin to tremble and shake, and he will attempt to control this trembling so as not to break down in tears. His anxiety is nothing more than the conflict between his desire to let go and his fear of letting go. This conflict will arise whenever the pleasure is strong enough to threaten his rigidity. Since rigidity develops as a means to block out painful sensations, the release of rigidity or the restoration of the natural motility of the body will bring these painful sensations to the fore. Somewhere in his unconscious the neurotic individual is aware that pleasure can evoke the repressed ghosts of the past. It could be that such a situation is responsible for the adage "No pleasure without pain.

As an artist, i live in fantasy and flirt with reality. I'm an emotional magician of sorts. I paint my feelings onto the abstract canvas of a waking dream. I suspend my concepts in the ether's of otherworldly realms. This is the way my existence has always been. I am untethered, a traveler between worlds. I sinuously slip in and out of the real and surreal, until, they are one and the same. I do not like being shackled or chained, to the physical plane.

Ascoltate, perchè non siamo tutti come fratelli gli uni per gli altri? Perchè anche la persona migliore nasconde sempre qualcosa all'altro e non gliene parla? Perchè non dire francamente, subito, quello che si ha nel cuore, se si che le nostre parole non saranno dette al vento? Invece ognuno appare per così dire più burbero di quanto non sia effettivamente, come se tutti avessero paura di fare torto ai propri sentimenti se li esternassero troppo in fretta...

As I said it, I immediately felt a twinge of desire for something else poking between my ribs, jabbing at the familiar emptiness. Like maybe, if I could change thing up somehow, I might be able to fill some of that blank space. And maybe, if I weren’t so blank, people would actually be drawn to me. To want me.

As I stare at it,I can feel little invisible strings,silently tugging me toward it. I have to touch it. I have to wear it. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Ask yourself, does this person make me feel good about myself? Do I feel safe, strong and free with this person? Those are the questions you need to ask....You have to be strong to truly be open.

As the tide of life recedes, and the crest of foam scatters to the wind, all that's left on the sand are dying bubbles of dreams and wishes...

A true hero make people feel like he is part of their family.

As they talked, West reflected privately that he knew exactly why people confided in Tom Severin, who never muddled an issue with moralizing or judgements, and never tried to change your opinions or talk you out of wanting something. Severin was never shocked by anything. And although he could be frequently disloyal or dishonorable, he was never dishonest. "I'll tell you what your problem is," Severin eventually said. "It's feelings." West paused with a crystal glass of brandy close to his lips. "Do you mean that unlike you, I have them?" "I have feelings too, but I never let them turn into obstacles. If I were in your situation, for example, I would marry the woman I wanted and not worry about what was best for her. And if the children you raise turn out badly, that's their business, isn't it? They'll decide for themselves whether or not they want to be good. Personally, I've always seen more advantage in being bad. Everyone knows the meek won't really inherit the earth. That's why I don't hire meek people." "I hope you're never going to be a father," West said sincerely. "Oh, I will," Severin said. "I have to leave my fortune to someone, after all. I'd rather it be my own offspring- it's the next best thing to leaving it to myself.

At my most precarious, I balanced on a book, and the books rafted me over the tides of feelings that left me soaked and shattered.

At some point in reading, we realize we have to read not just the books that we'd enjoy, but the books that move us, touch us, those that break us and hurt us, those which remind us that we will always be the ignorant of this life. We have to read the books that make us so little, make us a speck of dust or a grain of sand in a galaxy, until we feed our minds with all the knowledge we need, which is infinite in itself.

A woman is at heart – a wild creature. But the creature itself … that depends on you. (His wild rabbit – your wild horse)

At the risk of hurting your feelings, I think you should know that some kisses are more special than others.

A wave of hurt broke over Francie and left her weak when it was passed. Another wave came, broke and receded. She found her way down to the cellar of her house and sat in the darkest corner on a heap of burlap sacks and waited while the hurt waves swept over her. As each wave spent itself and a new one gathered, she trembled. Tensely she sat there waiting for them to stop. If they didn't stop, she'd have to die--she'd have to die.

A woman who writes feels too much, Those trances and portents!

Bad emotions can be hidden with a smile on the face

Bad movies and bad writing and easy cliches still manage to make us feel things toward each other. Part of me is disgusted by this. Part of me celebrates it.

A writer should feel deeply from his heart of the joys and sorrows of people. And he must write as honestly as possible. Then only can he claim to be a writer.

Be afraid, when you feel always fearless.

Becoming sensitive to the background causes of one's thoughts and feelings can—paradoxically—allow for greater creative control over one's life. It is one thing to bicker with your wife because you are in a bad mood; it is another to realize that your mood and behavior have been caused by low blood sugar. This understanding reveals you to be a biochemical puppet, of course, but it also allows you to grab hold of one of your strings: A bit of food may be all that your personality requires. Getting behind our concious thoughts and feelings can allow us to steer a more intelligent course through our lives (while knowing, of course, that we are ultimately being steered).

Beautiful moments in life need no words for description. Living those moments and feeling the beauty suffices.

Because all her feelings for him – hot and beautiful in her heart – turned to gobbledygook in her mouth.

Because feelings, emotional and physical, are so foregrounded in sexual encounters, the orgy is soon the most social of human interchanges, where awareness and communication, whether verbal or no, hold all together or sunder it.

Before you diagnose any sickness, make sure there is no sickness in the mind or heart. For the emotions in a man's moon or sun, can point to the sickness in any one of his other parts.

Be careful of your mood and feelings, for there is an unbroken connection between your feelings and your visible world.

Because she knew already that this would be the thing that would end them. And that in the deepest part of her, she had known it from the beginning, like someone stubbornly ignoring a weed growing until it blocked out the light.

Be honest with yourself, face your feelings and what they really mean, then you will be able to deal with them and move on.

Behind this smile in my face Lies the dark shadow of emptiness Hiding from your eyes within my gaze Concealed with sham happiness.

Believing the phenomenon of karma is placing your destiny in the hands of the devil.

Being alone is better than being your whore.

Being must be 'felt' it can not be 'thought.

Beklemediğim bir anda yeniden bana sarıldı. Hiç ummadığımız insanların, hislerimize bir yenisini ekleyebilecek gücü başından beri içlerinde barındırdıklarını, belki de insan olmayı böylesine göz alıcı yapan şeyin bu olduğunu anladığım an’dı.

Bellamy was sorry to hurt Clement's feelings, but he so intensely wanted to be alone where he could confront the awful cacophony of his own feelings.

Besides, who is to say that the feelings he writes in his diary are his true feelings? Who is to say that at each moment while the pen moves he is truly himself? At one moment he might truly be himself, at another he might simply be making things up. How can one know for sure? Why should he even want to know for sure?

Beside her I felt grey, like she had all the colours I'd ever need.

Betrayal is a more subtle, twisted feeling than terror. It burns and eats, but terror stabs right through.