Best 449 quotes in «feeling quotes» category

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

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

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 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.

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

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.

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.

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?

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

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'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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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)

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 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 can feel it why do you need the words?

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

If you do good, you feel good.

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

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.

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 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.