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Emotions Quotes

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Emotions Quotes

“She is an able negotiator and a strong ally." Pickering said, as his eyes caressed her lovely face.  He noticed both her arms were wrapped tightly around Victor's, and that she looked up at him with such commitment that it made his cynical view of love soften.  Reminding him bittersweetly of how he had felt once, a very long time ago.”

LoveRelationshipsFriendshipEmotionsBetrayalResilienceHonourTormentHuman EmotionsHistorical Backdrop
Book:Victor's Blessing
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“When someone comes around at that dreary moment, when all hope was lost, and thorns emerged. And that fellow, walks on that thorn just to cross to your side, to bear the pains for your sake, to bleed, to self-destroy himself, just to protect you. He places you above his priorities, and doesn't give a damn whatsoever taunt he receives, his foremost desire is to make sure you are save, feel loved and cared for, and that's the true definition of love.”

LoveMomentsPainTogetherPoetryLove QuotesPromiseEmotionsTrue LoveCraveI Love YouTrue FriendshipThornsMichael Bassey JohnsonHeart To HeartTrue FriendsEverlasting LoveDefinition Of LoveBleedMoments Lived With Love
Book:The Infinity Sign
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“But for a long time, and probably far too long, I had a secret wish: the adolescently romantic idea that there was someone out there for me; someone I hadn't met yet who would ask me on a date and make sense of my life. I harbored the hope, I'm now embarrassed to admit, that like a girl in a Lifetime movie, I would look into someone's eyes and find a reflection of my inner life. But sometime between my teenage years and the first years in New York, that idea had pretty well evaporated. I'd grown up.”

LoveGrowing UpYouthEmotionsComing Of AgeSoulmatesIdealismSoulmateCrushedRomantic FantasyLonging For LoveRealizationsFuture Lovers
Book:The Season of Second Chances
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“You don’t have any control over anyone’s feelings. You can’t make your parents feel proud of you. You can’t make anyone like you. You can’t make anyone love you. You can make it easier for them, by sacrificing your time and energy, but you cannot MAKE THEM, you can only make it easier for them— and yet again, what have you gained? Nothing. You’re gambling. Putting trust coins into a slot machine hoping that love comes out.”

LoveLifeInspirationalFeelingsGrowing UpSadnessEmotionsFriendshipsBreakupsLife Advice
Author:M. Kirin
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“Who told you you couldn't come back when you're grown? Was it the same person who told you grown-ups don't cry or blush or clap their hands when they're happy? Don't try to say otherwise, I've seen you fighting like a boxer to change your face so that it never shows anything. Whoever told you that's what growing up means is a villain, as true as a mustache. I am growing up, too, and look at me! I cry and I blush and I live in Fairyland always!”

Growing UpEmotionsAdulthoodFairyland
Book:The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two
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“Our meals, the dishes we're creating, bring on new sensations---an awakening of sorts for certain people, albeit nostalgia or something else. Food brings on emotions---and we're doing things right if we're bringing them out in people." "Food is about balance of flavors and textures and taste, not emotion." Charles grips my shoulders. "Kate, when you cook, how are you doing it? With anger or with love?" "Probably a little of both sometimes," I gasp. "What are you saying? People are eating my emotions? Like in that movie with Sarah Michelle Gellar? Simply Irresistible? She was a chef, like me, with a flailing restaurant, and there was a rich guy, like you. And a crab." He snickers. "This is real life, not the movies. And I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”

FoodEmotionsCookingIronyEvokeMovie ReferenceSimply Irresistible
Book:The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique
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“My favorite of all was still the place on Vermont, the French cafe, La Lyonnaise, that had given me the best onion soup on that night with George and my father. The two owners hailed from France, from Lyon, before the city had boomed into a culinary sibling of Paris. Inside, it had only a few tables, and the waiters served everything out of order, and it had a B rating in the window, and they usually sat me right by the swinging kitchen door, but I didn't care about any of it. There, I ordered chicken Dijon, or beef Bourguignon, or a simple green salad, or a pate sandwich, and when it came to the table, I melted into whatever arrived. I lavished in a forkful of spinach gratin on the side, at how delighted the chef had clearly been over the balance of spinach and cheese, like she was conducting a meeting of spinach and cheese, like a matchmaker who knew they would shortly fall in love. Sure, there were small distractions and preoccupations in it all, but I could find the food in there, the food was the center, and the person making the food was so connected with the food that I could really, for once, enjoy it.”

FoodEmotionsEnjoymentIngredientsFrenchMoodsCafeRose EdelsteinFood SensorLa Lyonnaise
Book:The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake
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“I started in our neighborhood, buying a pastrami burrito at Oki Dog and a deluxe gardenburger at Astro Burger and matzoh-ball soup at Greenblatt's and some greasy egg rolls at the Formosa. In part funny, and rigid, and sleepy, and angry. People. Then I made concentric circles outward, reaching first to Canter's and Pink's, then rippling farther, tofu at Yabu and mole at Alegria and sugok at Marouch; the sweet-corn salad at Casbah in Silver Lake and Rae's charbroiled burgers on Pico and the garlicky hummus at Carousel in Glendale. I ate an enormous range of food, and mood. Many favorites showed up- families who had traveled far and whose dishes were steeped with the trials of passageways. An Iranian cafe near Ohio and Westwood had such a rich grief in the lamb shank that I could eat it all without doing any of my tricks- side of the mouth, ingredient tracking, fast-chew and swallow. Being there was like having a good cry, the clearing of the air after weight has been held. I asked the waiter if I could thank the chef, and he led me to the back, where a very ordinary-looking woman with gray hair in a practical layered cut tossed translucent onions in a fry pan and shook my hand. Her face was steady, faintly sweaty from the warmth of the kitchen. Glad you liked it, she said, as she added a pinch of saffron to the pan. Old family recipe, she said. No trembling in her voice, no tears streaking down her face.”

FoodEmotionsRestaurantsChefWalks Of LifeMoodsRose Edelstein
Book:The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake
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