Best 449 quotes in «feeling quotes» category

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

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

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

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.

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 felt like some part of my soul was ripped out and put under a microscope for criticizing.

If I can't tell you, I tell it to poetry (Writing poetry makes me clearly put up my feelings to myself)

If I could have just one wish, I would wish to wake up everyday to the sound of your breath on my neck, the warmth of your lips on my cheek, the touch of your fingers on my skin, and the feel of your heart beating with mine... Knowing that I could never find that feeling with anyone other than you.

I figured I wasn't supposed to be capable of that kind of thinking, and I felt like an alien. I feel that a lot, actually, in a lot of circumstances. Like I ought to be feeling something I don't.

If our mind remains freeze-framed by inhibiting and hampering habits, in an ever-changing world, we won’t be able to get rid of that weird feeling of not belonging anywhere and not taking part in authentic life challenges. ("Not on the shortlist")

If someone with a high level of authority were to ask me, "Suzy, how can we make people so incredibly stupid and apathetic, so that we can do whatever we want without scrutiny?" I would say, "Go for the gut. Pollute the gut. The gut is the seat of all feeling. If you pollute the gut, you corrupt the mind. If you corrupt their minds, their hearts will turn dark. And without light inside their hearts, they will be too blind to see their conscience.

If you can feel it why do you need the words?

If we deny the need for thought, Moneo, as some do, we lose the powers of reflection; we cannot define what our senses report. If we deny the flesh, we unwheel the vehicle which bears us. But if we deny emotion, we lose all touch with our internal universe. It was emotions which I missed the most.

If you do good, you feel good.

If you can't feel anything, it doesn't mean it's not hurting.

I hate feeling hate but feeling nothing feels worse.

I guess when I feel something, then I just feel it and I go for it. I make my decisions about what’s going to make me happy, what I think is right and what I want to do – and I don’t worry too much outside of that.

I had nothing to contribute. I played no part. I was on the edge. Different. Alone. Everything around me, grey. It was the same old feeling, back again. I was in the middle of the group but I might as well have been a million miles away from these people.

If you're putting that energy into performance," he said, "you're also getting it back out again, right? You're giving so you can receive." He spread his arms wide. "If you were writing songs with it, you'd be holed up in your room in the middle of the night, scribbling them in a notebook and feeling self-important. You'd think you were getting it out, but really you'd be keeping it inside and quiet. You'd take what upset you and turn it into art, and now it would fester, because you think other people ought to share your outrage at what happened to you.

I had crossed fifty years of my life, and come across uncountable females as son, husband, father, friend in my life. Coming across several women I carefully studied most of them, and feels that I got master knowing female. But every time when my heart comes across to a female, my all knowledge on female goes to a vain. What they want? , What are they looking for? When their mind changes? When their priority changes? No one knows, in a minute they use to change decisions, if someone ask, they says it’s a little thing. They never think, little things makes big or if they can’t stick on little things how they can stand in important decisions. They never show they are weak, but every time they are compromising themselves. It’s their big heart but impacting every around. They always think they can do anything by doing nothing.

I have no resentments, no complaints, no ax to grind. I simply feel what I feel and do what I do.

I have one dream: I want to get my jet pilot license, and take my jet to 40 000 feet, look down, and realise how small we are. Not for the kick of the G's but just to get the feeling of just for once flying above humanity.

I know I should have been grateful because it was a very nice thing to do. But I wasn't grateful. I wasn't grateful at all. Don't get me wrong. I acted like I was. But I wasn't. To tell you the truth, I was starting to get mad.

I think, therefore I am is the statement of an intellectual who underrates toothaches. I feel, therefore I am is a truth much more universally valid, and it applies to everything that's alive. My self does not differ substantially from yours in terms of its thought. Many people, few ideas: we all think more or less the same, and we exchange, borrow, steal thoughts from one another. However, when someone steps on my foot, only I feel the pain. The basis of the self is not thought but suffering, which is the most fundamental of all feelings. While it suffers, not even a cat can doubt its unique and uninterchangeable self. In intense suffering the world disappears and each of us is alone with his self. Suffering is the university of egocentrism.

I love to touch and be touched, to move and be moved.

I like the way I feel when I’ve got nothing to lose.

I loved you, I did. I believe I even sold myself a bit: on your love, my lust, your hair and just the way we stood there. How the air smelled of you, the way your shirt was cursed with blues. The way we danced by the ocean in front your mini-garden. The white fence, your loveliness and the heavenly kisses. It’ll always be the sheets, lying beside, holding your arm and kissing your hair in a loving stride.

I’m a feeler. I feel everything deep within my core. Even when I don’t want to. I don’t know where my emotions stop and my empathy begins. I feel from the tips of my toes to the follicles of my head. I feel with every fiber, every molecule, every tissue, marrow, muscle, and bone in my body. I feel.

I made spasmodic efforts to work, assuring myself that once I began working I would forget her. The difficulty was in beginning. There was a feeling of weakness, a sort of powerlessness now, as though I were about to be ill but was never quite ill enough, as though I were about to come down with something I did not quite come down with. It seemed to me that for the first time in my life I had been in love, and had lost, because of the grudgingness of my heart, the possibility of having what, too late, I now thought I wanted. What was it that all my life I had so carefully guarded myself against? What was it that I had felt so threatened me? My suffering, which seemed to me to be a strict consequence of having guarded myself so long, appeared to me as a kind of punishment, and this moment, which I was now enduring, as something which had been delayed for half a lifetime. I was experincing, apparently, an obscure crisis of some kind. My world acquired a tendency to crumble as easily as a soda cracker. I found myself horribly susceptible to small animals, ribbons in the hair of little girls, songs played late at night over lonely radios. It became particularly dangerous for me to go near movies in which crippled girls were healed by the unselfish love of impoverished bellhops. I had become excessively tender to all the more obvious evidences of the frailness of existence; I was capable of dissolving at the least kind word, and self-pity, in inexhaustible doses, lay close to my outraged surface. I moved painfully, an ambulatory case, mysteriously injured.

I’m in search of something more than a new place, though. I’m in search of a feeling and a state of being: that magical time when you can’t possibly predict what’s going to happen next or whom you are going to meet or where they are going to take you. In this state, everything flows, every surprise is a delight, and new people guide you to special adventures.

I never knew what feeling was I only felt the pain

Incorrect radiation levels may be able to affect your sex drive and it may be proven in the future that human sex drive is governed more by radiation types and levels than any other factor, even more so than hormones! Generally, a feeling of contentment replaces sexual desire in natural radiation environments.

In every dream you pursue, you attract its respective version of opposition. Going back will not solve any problem; Regrets will not change anything either; Feeling of Superiority over every obstacle should be your priority!

In every possibility of a mind May you travel, yet not blind. As a head filled with imagination, Goes a heart full of gold creation, It's never late to have a dream. Nor is it so far away as it seems, And, like a rearview mirror reveals, Thus a fantasy soon becomes real. It may be closer than it appears. Or at least it will show up clear. Never give up a dream for fear!

In feeling, naive; in thought, a skeptic.

I'm not an expert of cars but I know how they make me feel.

I'm not sure if you even want me around or if you just feel sorry for me. I'm not sure of anything.

I'm not difficult," Violet said. "I'm simple. I like good books and clever conversation and being left alone much of the time. How does that make me difficult? I make sense? I don't talk about my feelings, of course, but then, I don't want to." She shrugged. "So that's reasonable." Sebastian smiled despite himself, a smile that felt bitter even to him. "God, no. Not feelings. Heaven forbid that you have anything so messy." "I have feelings." She spoke stiffly. "I just don't talk about them. What's the point? Talking never changes them.

In order to live fully, you must understand that your experiences in life don't determine your constant feelings; your repeated interpretations of them always do.

Instead of complaining about your job, Remember that feeling of joy after receiving your first paycheck, and what promises you made to yourself. Continue to reflect on that positive energy.

Instead of a feeling, think of love as an action. The feeling of love comes and goes on a whim; you can’t control it. But the action of love is something you can do, regardless of how you are feeling.

In Sunday school, love was taught like blueberries baking in crust: let simmer & don't eat it all at once. I always ate too much until my plate emptied. I don't want to go, but I am alone in this feeling. Left to carry it gracefully until I'm alive in someone else's memory.

Intellectualism is trivial compared to affairs of the heart.

In that moment, I felt differently to myself yet the essence of who I really was. Like a perfect state of balance.

In the Critique of Practical Reason, Kant makes it quite clear that sympathetic feelings are often welcome, amiable, desirable, beautiful. They can under certain conditions be good objectively, all things considered. But they are not morally good (V 82.18–25). A happy, well-rounded character is an ideal that lies beyond the sphere of Kant’s conception of morality.

In the economy of the body, the limbic highway takes precedence over the neural pathways. We were designed and built to feel, and there is no thought, no state of mind, that is not also a feeling state. Nobody can feel too much, though many of us work very hard at feeling too little. Feeling is frightening. Well, I find it so.

In the deep, tacit way in which feeling becomes stronger than thought, I had always felt that the Devon School came into existence the day i entered it, was vibrantly real while I was a student there, and then blinked out like a candle the day I left.

In the End of the story everyone feels unpleasant and unworthy.

In the early days, I might have gotten on stage and begun to sing as a desperate attempt to communicate, but now I found that singing was both a physical and emotional joy. It was sensuous, a pure pleasure, which didn't take away from the emotions being expressed—even if they were melancholic. Music can do that; you can enjoy singing about something sad.