Best 9217 quotes in «feelings quotes» category

Man himself is a great deep, whose very hairs Thou numberest, O Lord, and they fall not to the ground without Thee. And yet are the hairs of his head easier to be numbered than his feelings, and the beatings of his heart.

„Man kann Gefühle negieren. Man kann sie auch verdrängen oder unterdrücken. 
Man kann sie aber auch einfach zulassen, zu ihnen stehen und das Beste daraus machen,
indem man sich mit ihnen auseinandersetzt und sie verarbeitet.

Man is mostly a collection of emotions, most of which he would do better not to be feeling.

Many Christians... find themselves defeated by the most psychological weapon that Satan uses against them. This weapon has the effectiveness of a deadly missile. Its name? Low self-esteem. Satan's greatest psychological weapon is a gut level feeling of inferiority, inadequacy, and low self-worth This feeling shackles many Christians, in spite of wonderful spiritual experiences and knowledge of God's Word. Although they understand their position as sons and daughters of God, they are tied up in knots, bound by a terrible feeling inferiority, and chained to a deep sense of worthlessness.

Mapenzi, kama ilivyo kwa vitu vyote hapa ulimwenguni, hayawezi kuwepo bila kujumuishwa na fizikia na kemia yake! Bila kemia hakuna mapenzi ya kudumu. Tamaa ya ngono kimsingi huanza pindi unapokutana na mtu. Tamaa hiyo huweza kukua na kuwa kitu kingine kadiri muda unavyokwenda lakini chanzo kinakuwepo toka siku ya kwanza mlipokutana. Kemikali inayosababisha tamaa ya ngono na hata kuikuza tamaa hiyo ni 'phenyl ethylamine' ('fino itholamine') au PEA ambayo ni kemikali ya mapenzi ndani ya ubongo. Husisimua watu na huongeza nguvu za kimwili (fizikia) na kihisia (kemia). Tamaa husababisha mtu azalishe PEA nyingi zaidi, kitu kinachosababisha kujisikia kizunguzungu (cha hisia za kimapenzi) na dalili zingine kama magoti kutetemeka, jasho kutoka viganjani na kutokutulia. Kemikali hii inapozalishwa kwa kiwango kikubwa, hutuma alamu ('signals') kutoka kwenye ubongo mpaka kwenye viungo vingine vya mwili na kutumika kama 'dopamine' au 'amphetamine' ambazo ni kemikali za ulevi ndani ya ubongo. Iwapo unajiuliza kwa nini wewe au mtu mwingine unavutiwa na mtu ambaye hamwendani kimapenzi, inaweza kuwa ni kwa sababu una kiwango kikubwa cha kemikali hizo kuliko mwenzako, kitu ambacho huzidi uwezo wa kutumia kichwa na kutoa maamuzi bora kulingana na akili ya kuzaliwa. Kwa jumla, mapenzi yote ya kweli uhitaji angalau kiwango kidogo cha PEA kwa wale wanaopendana. Cha msingi kukumbuka ni kwamba kemikali hizi huja kwa vituo, nikiwa simaanishi kwamba tamaa ya ngono hupotea pale mtu anapoelekea kwenye uhusiano wa kudumu. Lakini mambo hubadilika. Hatuwezi kuvumilia zile hisia kali kadiri tunavyozidi kusafiri kuelekea kwenye uhusiano wa kudumu na kwenye maisha ya pamoja yenye furaha. Katika uhusiano wenye afya hata hivyo matatizo hutokea hapa na pale. Chanzo cha Murphy na Debbie kupendana kilikuwa kemia zaidi kuliko fizikia. Kama hakuna kemia hakuna mapenzi.

Master yourself, your thoughts and feelings, and you master the whole universe.

Maybe attraction was aligned in heaven before our birth because there was no other way to explain my feelings. There were millions of boys on the earth. Why did it feel so strong?

Maybe I did hurt him, but I don’t think I could have hurt him much. He was one of the best-protected human beings who ever lives. People couldn’t get at him because he just wasn’t interested in people.

Maybe I hold on for too long, but maybe you don’t hold on for long enough?

Maybe the brokenness comes to teach you how to kneel. Stop trying to ‘be strong’. We cry, to heal. We feel, to stay human.

Maybe that's what writers do- Maybe they exaggerate pain just so that you feel okay about what you're feeling.

Maybe to feel superior in struggle was sensed, When people were aware to fight for identity.'-Terzanelle for Octavia Estelle Butler, poem by Marieta Maglas

Maybe what I'd thought was my superpower was actually just this: I was finally able to see that nothing was simply good or bad, that everyone contained multitudes, and that I, like anyone, was a beautiful, swirling, chaotic galaxy of all the things that had ever happened to me.

Maybe to feel superior in struggle was sensed, When people were aware to fight for identity.”- Near Kin

May love always be with you, and you always surrounded by love

May your love for me be like the scent of the evening sea drifting in through a quiet window so i do not have to run or chase or fall ... to feel you all i have to do is breathe.

Me gusta la gente sentipensante, que no separa la razón del corazón. Que siente y piensa a la vez. Sin divorciar la cabeza del cuerpo, ni la emoción de la razón

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.

Me would like an invisibility cloak to get the hell out of this mess.

Missing someone enlightens how the person means to you and broadens the feelings shared.

Mi tese le labbra, si lisciò nuovamente i capelli, e uscimmo dalla stanza, Marguerite cantando, io quasi impazzito. Nel salotto mi disse a bassa voce, fermandosi: "Vi sarà sembrato strano che io vi abbia accettato subito: lo sapete da cosa dipende? Dipende" riprese, prendendomi una mano ed appoggiandosela sul cuore, di cui sentii i battiti violenti e accelerati, "dal fatto che, dovendo vivere meno a lungo degli altri, mi sono ripromessa di vivere più in fretta.

Most people shake your hand but only a few touch your heart.

Most of the men had simple souls. They could relate facts, but they said very little about what they dimly felt.

Most sane human beings who are over the age of six usually act or react not as per what they genuinely feel or really think but in accordance with the expectations of those around them.

Most people spend their lives doing one of two things to their emotions: numbing or venting. Self-loving people do something very different—they accept each emotion as a piece of communication and they try to decode it. This way, emotions can become important guideposts on the journey of self-discovery, rather than annoying roadblocks.

Music and books stir up emotions. They make feelings rise and clatter and wreck, and sometimes that's dangerous. But music can make you rise up and clatter and destroy when you need to, too.

Mother's Eden: Does your Matthew... Well, does he make you feel as if he just handed you a handful of Stars? Eden: He make me feel as if he handed me the moon as well, Mama. Maybe the whole universe.

Mr. Ferris didn't say anything the whole time. He sat next to me and listened. And when I finished, I looked at him. He was crying. I'm not lying. He was crying. I don't think it was because how hard I hit him. I know how the Black-Backed Gull feels when he looks up into the sky. Maybe, somehow, Mr. Ferris does too.

Music is a second language to my heart.

Music is one of the highest forms of language which can touch everyone’s feeling—including animals.

Music. It’s not about those things. It’s about a feeling. It’s about expressing yourself. It’s about letting go.

My best advice about writer’s block is: the reason you’re having a hard time writing is because of a conflict between the GOAL of writing well and the FEAR of writing badly. By default, our instinct is to conquer the fear, but our feelings are much, much, less within our control than the goals we set, and since it’s the conflict BETWEEN the two forces blocking you, if you simply change your goal from “writing well” to “writing badly,” you will be a veritable fucking fountain of material, because guess what, man, we don’t like to admit it, because we’re raised to think lack of confidence is synonymous with paralysis, but, let’s just be honest with ourselves and each other: we can only hope to be good writers. We can only ever hope and wish that will ever happen, that’s a bird in the bush. The one in the hand is: we suck. We are terrified we suck, and that terror is oppressive and pervasive because we can VERY WELL see the possibility that we suck. We are well acquainted with it. We know how we suck like the backs of our shitty, untalented hands. We could write a fucking book on how bad a book would be if we just wrote one instead of sitting at a desk scratching our dumb heads trying to figure out how, by some miracle, the next thing we type is going to be brilliant. It isn’t going to be brilliant. You stink. Prove it. It will go faster. And then, after you write something incredibly shitty in about six hours, it’s no problem making it better in passes, because in addition to being absolutely untalented, you are also a mean, petty CRITIC. You know how you suck and you know how everything sucks and when you see something that sucks, you know exactly how to fix it, because you’re an asshole. So that is my advice about getting unblocked. Switch from team “I will one day write something good” to team “I have no choice but to write a piece of shit” and then take off your “bad writer” hat and replace it with a “petty critic” hat and go to town on that poor hack’s draft and that’s your second draft. Fifteen drafts later, or whenever someone paying you starts yelling at you, who knows, maybe the piece of shit will be good enough or maybe everyone in the world will turn out to be so hopelessly stupid that they think bad things are good and in any case, you get to spend so much less time at a keyboard and so much more at a bar where you really belong because medicine because childhood trauma because the Supreme Court didn’t make abortion an option until your unwanted ass was in its third trimester. Happy hunting and pecking!

Mwanamume kutokana na asili yake atampenda mwanamke hata kama hataonyesha hisia zake kwake. Ukiwaweka pamoja, mwanamume na mwanamke, mwanamume hatafikiri sawasawa.

My anger turned small and hid. It was like that kid feeling you get when you are sad or hurt or lonely and you scream or cry to your parents and they crush you with their grown up feelings. Rage as big as the sky. Loneliness like an ocean you could drown in. Huge grown up feelings that annihilate you where you stand.

My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand.

My existence began the day you were created and was realized the day we met.

My emotions have been wrung out like a wet washcloth. Like someone cut me open, scrubbed my insides with a stiff brush, and sewed me back up again

My fiancé immediately began to look uncomfortable, but did not voice this discomfort except by a soft gurgling sound in the throat . . . The gurgling escalated, but my mother politely switched on the dishwasher, and soon we heard mostly the sound of machinery rather than that of a person's feelings surfacing.

My feelings are important for many things. They are essential and valuable. They keep me aware of much that is true and real. But they tell me next to nothing about God or my relation to God. My security comes from who God is, not from how I feel. Discipleship is a decision to live by what I know about God, not by what I feel about Him or my neighbors.

my heart beats but I am unchanging

My feelings can perhaps be imagined, but they can hardly be described.

My first kiss I regret. My first date I regret. But I do not regret the choice to say I love you for the first time. Even though that was the melodramatic story. Even though that one ended badly. I don’t regret it. Because that time ... that night, I was myself. I found my feelings and honored them. I loved myself enough to trust what I felt and say what I needed to say. And I chose to be myself. I was present as I delivered my awkward speech and felt each pound of my beating heart. I had never been more of myself than in that moment.

My feelings are a fact, not a personal delusion. They are valid for me. What business have you got trying to tell me how I ought to feel?

My feelings come rushing back as the cold air brushes against my face. Looking at the stars, I take a deep breathe and feel whole again.

My heart is not available for hurt.

My heart’s been empty since you left - but still I refuse to put up a vacancy sign. I’m just not ready for anybody else to move in yet.

My heart was crazy now; it's too complicated to know what it was beating for, and how much of it was him and how much of it was the hunting - I think I cared about the deer that got shot - but it didn't matter then. Something was there and its source was irrelevant. It was so easy to feel nothing, all the time, and I held on as hard as I could, because the worst thing, I thought, now, would be for it to go away.

My past still haunts me when I sleep, although I saw that - much to my surprise- his does as well.

My odd feelings of the other week seem to me quite ridiculous today: I can no longer enter into them.

My pillows are dreaming, not me.With my eyes closed I only try to feel how they dream.