Glok, that is so sad!
I wonder if many others, beside yourself, name a physical reaction when you are naming your emotions. Perhaps you are waiting for a landslide, or perhaps you are not paying attention.
When you see a butterfly, so fragile, so beautifu as it skips and dances across the breeze-don't you feel the slightest quickening in response-and even if it does not make you smile, there is the smallest place iside of you that is smiling,
I am such an emotional creature! I've never had a choice. My lover takes off his heavy gloves and my skin prickles, already imagining what his naked hands will feel like as they slide across my skin.
And when you watch a movie, or read a book and after so many defeats and so many obstacles, the hero finally wins-don't you root for him? Aren't you happy for him and the heroine as they kiss and all is right with the world before the screen fades to black?
And how does it make you feel when you drop a dollar into the kettle as a volunteer smiles and continues to ring his bell at Christmas? Don't you feel a flash of compassion for those that dollar will help, a tiny nuance of pride as that crackling dollar falls in among the rest?
Your emotions respond a thousand times an hour and you can feel them if you only pay attention. Irritation when you knock over a glass of milk, grumpiness as you clean the mess, impatience as you fill it yet again and finally pleasure as the cold, fresh, delicious liquid slides over your tongue.
Every experience, every action, produces a hundred emotions-you only have to become adept at catching them. Stand in a museum and behold a Monet or a DeGa and allow your eyes and then your soul, to drink in the astonishing beauty. Your eye follow a thousand tiny, careful brush strokes and and colors that swirl and change before your eyes...
The emotions are there-all you have to do is let them in.
And I defy you, Glok, to say you don't take pleasure in the words you quote, pleasure in the words of the fine writer's whose work you read.
whisper-and you really should open your mail...you have no idea how many people here like and admire you...
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Little Man-my one true love.
Last edited by Lady Courtesan; Jul 29, 2014 at 08:31 PM.
Reason: clarity
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