Best 449 quotes in «feeling quotes» category

For most INTPs, their Fe is rather naive and childlike. They may be easily moved by cheesy romantic comedies or sappy love songs, anything that unconsciously incites their Fe emotions. Their emotional naiveté can make them easy targets for love-at-first-sight sorts of infatuation.

From the depths of silence The feeling rushes up A warrior of brightness Emerging from the dark With words of pure abandonment, A lust for emptiness, through art Of pure suffering and torment That sparks a beating heart A spark of light in darkness, And darkness be his light, When all is lost in numbness Sit still, no need to fight.

Getting your neck slapped by a military superior and not resist the pain is as bad as the burning feeling you get on the inside when the urge to hit them back comes.

Happiness is an awareness, perception, feeling, and imagination. Happiness is a state of mind not a condition.

Greatness in the making feels just like you feel right now

Happiness comes from action, not from reaction. It is a feeling, not the success, but the perception.

Happiness is not something we can find. Happiness is a state of being. It is a choice we make at any particular moment. It is a feeling we can choose without any reason.

Happy people never compare themselves with others as they are satisfied with what they have and what they are. They have a feeling of completeness as a human being. Once you are complete, you are peaceful and happy.

Happy, even in anguish, is he to whom God has given a soul worthy of love and grief! He who has not seen the things of this world, and the heart of men in this double light, has seen nothing, and knows noting of the truth.

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.

Have you forgotten what it feels like to be alive? The grace of life shining on you; each breath vitalizing you with possibility? Remember!

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

He is dripping such good feelings that he slides over. (Il dégouline de si bons - Sentiments qu'il glisse dessus)

He grabbed my hand and that’s when I felt my heart beat for the very first time.

He sighed profoundly, and flung himself - there was a passion in his movements which deserves the word - on the earth at the foot of the oak tree. He loved, beneath all this summer transiency, to feel the earth's spine beneath him; for such he took the hard root of the oak tree to be; or, for image followed image, it was the back of a great horse that he was riding; or the deck of a tumbling ship - it was anything indeed, so long as it was hard, for he felt the need of something which he could attach his floating heart to; the heart that tugged at his side; the heart that seemed filled with spiced and amorous gales every evening about this time when he walked out. To the oak tree he tied it and as he lay there, gradually the flutter in and about him stilled itself; the little leaves hung, the deer stopped; the pale summer clouds stayed; his limbs grew heavy on the ground; and he lay so still that by degrees the deer stopped nearer and the rooks wheeled round him and the swallows dipped and circled and the dragonflies shot past, as if all the fertility and amorous activity of a summer's evening were woven web-like about his body.

Here he was now, stuck in the labyrinth of his mind, a labyrinth of demolished roses, staring at the cosmos between his eyelids and feeling the star spots on his skin.

He suffered much, but he understood the mystery of pain: he knew that tears make all things shine.

Home is just a feeling you can build it anywhere. With the right people or probably build a home within yourself

I am blinded. I open my eyes wide and only see. But the secret - that I neither see nor feel. Could I be making here a true orgy of what's behind thought?

Hygge is a quality of presence and an experience of togetherness. It is a feeling of being warm, safe, comforted and sheltered. Hygge is an experience of selfhood and communion with people and places that anchors and affirms us, gives us courage and consolation. To hygge is to invite intimacy and connection. It's a feeling of engagement and relatedness, of belonging to the moment and to each other. Hygge is a sense of abundance and contentment. Hygge is about being not having.

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 easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.

I all of a sudden got to feeling like talking to people. Whenever I look at the ocean, I always want to talk to people, but when I’m talking to people, I always want to look at the ocean. I’m weird like that.

i also dislike people who try to talk down to my understanding. they are like people who when walking with you try to shorten their steps to suit yours, hypocrisy in both cases is equally exasperating.

I care about you as people, and I believe you are capable of great things. Each of you will contribute something to this world. You are important. You would be missed.

I am that, I AM!" We always intend to BE something or someone, where we already ARE everything we could ever desire to be. We just need to unlock the part of us we wanna be. And the key to THAT is the FEELING about THAT. TO BE IS NOT AS IMPORTANT AS TO FEEL! ~ UNIVERSE LOVES YOU & SO DO I ‪#‎StardustAK‬

I came to find you last night," Lena says more quietly. "When I knew there was going to be a raid...I snuck out. I was there when—when the regulators came. I barely made it out. Alex helped me. We hid in a shed until they were gone..." I close my eyes and reopen them. I remember wiggling into the damp earth, bumping my hip against the window. I remember standing, and seeing the dark forms of bodies lying like shadows in the grass, and the sharp geometry of a small she shed, nestled in the trees. Lena was there. It was almost unimaginable. "I can't believe that. I can't believe you snuck out during a raid—for me." My throat feels thick again, and I will myself not to start crying. For a moment I am overwhelmed by a feeling so huge and strange, I have no name for it: It surges over the guilt and the shock and the envy; it plunges a hand into the deepest part of myself and roots me to Lena.

I . . . cannot fall asleep because there is a foreign feeling in my veins, it is the feeling of finally getting what I wanted, and the feeling is colder than I ever thought it would be.

I clap so that I can hold on to this feeling. I clap because I know what will happen when I stop. It’s the same thing that happens when I turn off a really good movie - one that I’ve lost myself to - which is that I’ll be thrown back to my own reality and something hollow will settle in my chest.

I could lose my mind, your love drives me crazy, and I ignore the reason why I'm crying at everytime I remember it's not reciprocal and you're saying that you're sorry because you don't show everything.

I could not escape a feeling that this was my own funeral, and you do not cry in that case.

I consider jealousy a humiliating and degrading feeling, and I shall never allow myself to be influenced by it.

I count everything. Even numbers, odd numbers, multiples of 10. I count the ticks of the clock i count the tocks of the clock I count the lines between the lines on a sheet of paper. I count the broken beats of my heart I count my pulse and my blinks and the number of tries it takes to inhale enough oxygen for my lungs. I stay like this I stand like this I count like this until the feeling stops. Until the tears stop spilling, until my fists stop shaking, until my heart stops aching. There are never enough numbers.

I don’t know if I can put it into words just yet, this feeling like something’s ending and I have to be close to it.

I don’t always feel what I know I should feel. My thought crosses the river I swim very slowly Because the suit men made it wear weighs it down.

I don't know...just a feeling, like in..." Xander thought for a moment. "Star Wars. You know, when Han Solo says, 'I've got a bad feeling about this'?

I don't like and even resist, being broken wide-open. But, when the contents of my unconscious self spill out of me and i sift through all the disowned parts of who i am... it's an uncomfortably enlightening and eye-opening experience. It feels a bit like emotional bloodletting. I guess every now and then, i need that release valve to open all the way...

I don't sleep. I just let my body lie itself into numbness and lie to myself that I can't hear, see, or feel anything.

I don't think there's a lonelier feeling than being with someone who has stopped caring.

I'd learned enough about grieving to know that other ways of feeling would come back soon enough. But it seemed to me that this was the way we all lived: full to the brim with gratitude and joy one day, wrecked on the rocks the next. Finding the balance between the two was the art and the salvation.

I don’t know how to talk because I’m feeling. I’m listening to my voice as if it were someone else’s, And my voice is speaking about her as if she were speaking. She has hair as blond as yellow wheat in the sun, And when she speaks her mouth says things that aren’t words. She laughs, and her teeth are as clean as stones in a river.

... I don't know what I feel anymore, or maybe it's that I don't know HOW to feel anymore. I question every move I make, every breath I take, and every flutter of an eyelash. I've developed a twitch from always being on guard. I'm alert at night, and numb during the day, but I'm always ready. Maybe, I can intercept tragedy from striking again.

I don’t know what understanding myself is. I don’t look inside. I don’t believe I exist behind myself.

I don't love you, you know. I'm merely crazy about you.

I don't want to be the one who says life is beautiful. I want to be the one who feels it.

I explored because I was feeling really crappy, and I wanted to know why

I earned my place, With the tidal waves. I can't escape this feeling, That something ain't right. I called my name As I crashed the gates, Still I can't escape this feeling That something ain't right.

I feel as though I can chew up nails and spit out a barbed wire fence.

I feel something on my chest. Ivy's resting her head on me. In fact, she's pulled herself so close that we're touching everywhere. My heart picks up speed again, but I'm surprisingly calm, seeing her beautiful face close to mine, her eyes closed in an expression of content bliss, and—the best part—feeling her own heart pound in time with mine. She's feeling what I'm feeling. That is when I know for sure. "Ivy?" I know what I have to do. "Mm?" Her songbird voice is a calm purr. "I think...no. I really, really like you." Like moving through molasses, Ivy raises her head. Her eyes are enormous with bewilderment. But there's no fright, no dislike, no anything that discourages me, With that in mind, I don't hesitate as I move my face and my lips to her lips. Ivy's lips are cool like water but delicate and velvety and smooth like round pebbles. She smells like wildflowers, wet earth, and freshly cut grass, which only makes me want her more. I press my lips harder against hers, and a shiver of delight snakes through me when I feel her press back. Daring myself, I open my mouth. So does she, and the kiss deepens. My hand slides upward to caress her satin cheek, and the back of my neck tingles as her fingers play with my hair. This is it. Ivy's and my first kiss. I wouldn't have it any other way. Unhurriedly we pull our faces away, though we leave our foreheads touching. "Ivy?" I peer into her eyes. She doesn't look upset, but more calm and curious. She meets my eyes and asks, "What was that?" "A kiss. You do it with people you like." To my amazement Ivy leans forward and kisses me again. It's incredible as the first time. "That is my feeling towards you," she tells me as she leans back. She meets my eyes, her face flushed but determined. "I...am...really liking you, too." I smile and pull her to me, and we grasp each other like we never want to let go. She likes me. I like her. This can't get any better.

I feel like I’m going to get in a fight one day about the validity of falling in love so fast. Not a heated one because why would I give a shit if some other person gets it or not? Right now, it’s no longer the big flooding rush like when I saw her naked shoulder. It’s just this honest, frank truth. I love Evelyn Shriner. Love doesn’t start with need. Love meets love and just fucking recognizes itself. I’m supposed to be scared to death. Modern man isn’t built for these kinds of things. But I feel good.