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Quotes about Emotion

Oh no; but promise me you'll remember.' Her tears were falling. 'I'll be different, but somewhere lost inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
A woman should be able to kiss a man beautifully and romantically without any desire to be either his wife or his mistress.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
A stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
My God,' he gasped, 'you're fun to kiss.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
He looked at her and for a moment she lived in the bright blue worlds of his eyes, eagerly and confidently.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
If you're in love it ought to make you happy. You ought to laugh.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
I love her and that's the beginning and end of everything.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an overwound clock.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
He loved her, and he would love her until the day he was too old for loving--but he could not have her. So he tasted the deep pain that is reserved only for the strong, just as he had tasted for a little while the deep happiness.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
Then a strange thing happened. She turned to him and smiled, and as he saw her smile every rag of anger and hurt vanity dropped form him - as though his very moods were but the outer ripples of her own, as though emotion rose no longer in his breast unless she saw fit to pull an omnipotent controlling thread.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
Another sigh came from the window-- quite a resigned sigh. 'She's life and hope and happiness, my whole world now.' He felt the quiver of a tear on his eyelid.
— F Scott Fitzgerald
The tears coursed down her cheeks - not freely, however, for when they came into contact with her heavily beaded eyelashes they assumed an inky color, and pursued the rest of their way in slow black rivulets. A humorous suggestion was made that she sing the notes on her face whereupon she threw up her hands, sank into a chair and went off into a deep vinous sleep.
— F Scott Fitzgerald