Mary Shelley Quotes

Anybody who wears their feelings on their sleeve and has a harder, crusty shell - like I do - is definitely protecting an inner sensitivity.

Emotion is often what we rely upon to carry us across the unfathomable voids in our intelligence.

The belief that a person can and should only feel grief over one sad event at a time is a truly disturbing estimate of our emotional capacity.

A trifle consoles us, for a trifle distresses us.

Emotion is messy, contradictory... and true.

Humankind cannot bear very much reality.

Real human emotion is always interesting.

There is no love of life without despair of life.

Emotion is a broad spectrum and I just been to a lot of sides of my own emotions.

The maximum number of emotions that I can cover is what I want to do.

It's one of them things that no matter how indestructible we look like we are, we're all human at the end of the day. We all got feelings... all of that.

Jealousy. Depression. Love. They pretty much demonstrate the whole range of human emotion.

If life is misery, why do we endure it?

A strange thing, the human heart in general, and woman's heart in particular.

But the absence of tears wasn't the same as an absence of feeling.

An amazing observation: it is precisely for feelings that one needs time, not for thought. ... Feelings, obviously, are more demanding than thought.

But I don't want to have to stop feeling. I really think I'd rather die than stop feeling.

It is difficult to deal successfully, he decided, with a woman whose feelings cannot be hurt.

Admire, exult, despise, laugh, weep for here There is such matter for all feelings: Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.

Love transforms and love cures;but,sometimes,love builds deadly traps and can end up destroying a person who had resolved to give him or herself completely.What is this complex feeling which,deep down,is the only reason we continue to live,struggle and improve?

What are the lessons to be learned from this journey of the mind through the universe? That humans are emotionally fragile, perennially gullible, hopelessly ignorant masters of an insignificantly small speck in the cosmos. Have a nice day.

It’s strange,” Moominmamma thought. “Strange that people can be sad, and even angry because life is too easy. But that’s the way it is, I suppose. The only thing to do is to start life afresh.

It was a miserable machine, an inefficient machine, she thought, the human apparatus for painting or for feeling; it always broke down at the critical moment; heroically, one must force it on.

The very gnarliest and hardest of hearts has some musical strings in it; but they are tuned differently in every one of us.

The Room is a drama that is also a comedy that is also an existential cry for help that is finally a testament to human endurance.