Coventry Patmore Quotes

It is quite amazing what I didn't feel after a while. I didn't really want to feel things.

The most sinister aspect of Jack is his detachment, his ability to distance himself from his feelings.

They say that I'm very calculated and not very sensitive - that a regular, average person, there are many things that bother them, and I don't see or feel it.

How can you not care?" "Practice," Magnus said, looking back to his book and turning the page.

She left me, offended at my want of sympathy, and thinking, no doubt, that I envied her. I did not - at least, I firmly believed I did not.

My problem might be that even if I did go home, I wouldn’t belong there, among people who give without thinking and care without trying.

Sometimes I don't get you,' I said. She didn't even glance at me. She just smiled toward the television and said, 'You never get me. That's the whole point.

I didn’t want to be prideful anymore. I wanted to be as hard as and brittle as the stones I carted into the woods. Stones that could not feel or cry or see. I wished not to feel anything at all. In no time, what I wished for, I became.

You know I love you more when you're cold and heartless.

It's disconcerting to realize how little you have to say to someone who once occupied such a prominent place in your bed.

I am an invisible monster, and I am incapable of loving anybody. You don't know which is worse.

I had always felt that I was an observer, never a participant; that I was watching from behind a thick glass wall as people went about the business of living--and did it with such ease, with a skill that they took for granted and that I had never known.

This is the world we live in, a world of safety and happiness and order, a world without love. A world where children crack their heads on stone fireplaces and nearly gnaw off their tongues and the parents are concerned. Not heartbroken, frantic, desperate. Concerned, as they are when you fail mathematics, as they are when they are late to pay their taxes.

Where there is no love there is no understanding.

under our love making I felt a bleakness that couldnt be dispelled. The sadness was in both of us, and I think we pitied ourselves that night, as if we were other people looking down on the couple who lay together on the bed

When you are born without the ordinary feelings and emotions shared by most other human beings, life looks different to you. It seems at times like a movie you’re walking through, more a spectator than a participant. There is above all a lack of empathy with most of mankind, a sense of detachment. But with detachment comes perspective. The less you care, the more you know, and the more you know the less you care.

The only reason he can miss you is because he’s choosing, every day, not to be with you.

April 27. Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of myself. Apathetic, witless, fearful. I have nothing to say to anyone - never.

I haven't got a heart: only the former site of one, with a monument there to say that it has been removed and the area it occupied turned into a public garden, in pursuance of the slum-clearance scheme.

The work changes the way your face changes and ages - it just does. Also, I have very little connection to anything I've written. I move on. We all move on

I've got no sympathy for him whatsoever. I just wish we had got 10 past him. At the end of the day we've got to be ruthless and we are in the business of winning for us. If they had scored three or four, nobody would have said do you feel sorry for Mark Bosnich? We don't feel sorry for Craig Forrest.

The bloom of Monticello is chilled by my solitude.

Eff love. Come out of the situation and look at it third person.

Took your car, drove to Texas. Sorry honey, but I suspected, you and I can't cry anymore.

When I woke the next morning in my room at White's Motel, I showered and stood naked in front of the mirror, watching myself solemnly brush my teeth. I tried to feel something like excitement but came up only with a morose unease. Every now and then I could see myself-truly see myself-and a sentence would come to me, thundering like a god into my head, and as I saw myself then in front of that tarnished mirror what came was 'the woman with the hole in her heart'. That was me.