Emotion Quotes

“If ever thou shalt love,In the sweet pangs of it remember me;For such as I am all true lovers are,Unstaid and skittish in all motions elseSave in the constant image of the creatureThat is beloved.”

“Love sees with the heart and not with mind.”

“I love a ballad but even too well if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.”

“How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!”

“Lords, knights and gentlemen, what I should sayMy tears gainsay; for every word I speak,Ye see I drink the water of my eye.”

“I am not prone to weeping as our sex commonly are; the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities;but I have that honorable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown.”

“The gallantry of his grief did put me into a towering passion.”

“Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.”

“The cheekIs apter than the tongue to tell an errand.”

“So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love.”

“Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.”

“She marking them begins a wailing note And sings extemporally a woeful ditty How love makes young men thrall and old men dote How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, And still the choir of echoes answer so.”

“Against love's fire fear`s frost hath dissolution”

“Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.”

“Wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.”

“Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business,Hath raised me from my bed; nor doth the general careTake hold on me; for my particular griefIs of so floodgate and o'erbearing natureThat it engluts and swallows other sorrows,And it is still itself.”

“How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms!”

“A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.”

“Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.”

“They love least that let men know their loves.”

“I have a kind soul that would give you thanks. And knows not how to do it but with tears.”

“Ah me, how weak a thingThe heart of woman is!”

“Seems," madam? Nay, it is; I know not "seems." 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play: But I have that within which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe.”

“He makes a July's day short as December.”

“Write till your ink be dry, and with your tearsMoist it again, and frame some feeling lineThat may discover such integrity.”