Ruta Sepetys Quotes

Real affection comes from the face. Those political leaders, when they meet, they are always hugging, but not very genuine. Deep, sincerity comes from face and eye.

I don't think that you can fake warmth. You can fake lust, jealousy, anger; those are all quite easy. But actual, genuine warmth? I don't think you can fake it.

You have to be sincere in your feelings. And fear is one of those, sometimes; doubt is one of those; jealousy, anger - all your emotions are not going to be considered the strong emotions; all of them are not going to be love, happiness, joy.

Good manners have much to do with the emotions. To make them ring true, one must feel them, not merely exhibit them.

Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command.

Genuine feelings are never the product of conscious effort. They are quite simply there, and they are there for a very good reason, even if that reason is not always apparent.

I was glad my father was an eye-smiler. It meant he never gave me a fake smile, because it's impossible to make your eyes twinkle if you aren't feeling twinkly yourself. A mouth-smile is different. You can fake a mouth-smile any time you want, simply by moving your lips. I've also learned that a real mouth-smile always has an eye-smile to go with it, so watch out, I say, when someone smiles at you with his mouth but the eyes stay the same. It's sure to be bogus.

How truly does this journal contain my real and undisguised thoughts--I always write it according to the humour I am in, and if astranger was to think it worth reading, how capricious--insolent & whimsical I must appear!--one moment flighty and half mad,--the next sad and melancholy. No matter! Its truth and simplicity are its sole recommendations.

Being comedic is a skill, because there is a fine line where the context is important. And being dramatic is just being honest and real in that moment.

Other people's devotions embarrassed me, perhaps because, like other people's kisses, they rarely looked genuine when viewed too closely.

What I write is emotionally honest and truthful as the human experience can be, to make people feel less alone, or at least that's the hope.

The unaffected language of real feeling and benevolence is easily understood, and is never ridiculous.

You know what, I just write what I feel.

In interviews, on the set, talking to people, I'll just start talking about my parents' divorce, and go on and on. My mom's always like, 'You don't have to be that honest. You have to be more fake.' You see some of these actors, they have a permanent smile on their face. How can they do that? It really fascinates me.

Authentic love always assumes the mystery of modesty, even in its expression, because actions speak louder than words. Unlike a feigned love, it feels no need to set a conflagration.

I'm aware of my songs. I'm aware of them because they're about true emotions, true feelings, things that matter.

Sorrow makes for sincerity, I think.

It is now only in letters I write what I feel: not in literature any more, and I seldom say it, because I keep trying to be amusing.

I would rather give full vent to all human loves and disappointments, and take a chance on being corny, than die a smartass.

I'd want the human voice expressing grievances, or delight, or whatever it might be. But something real

Nothing else is necessary but these - love, sincerity, and patience.

I would feel really dishonest writing a song that was really sassy, or really confident, because I'm not a supremely confident being. I think that's what people find interesting about what I do; it's very different lyrically.

Any emotion, if it is sincere, is involuntary.

But it seems to me that a man cannot and ought not to say that he loves, he said. Why not? I asked. Because it will always be a lie. As though it were a strange sort of discovery that someone is in love! Just as if, as soon as he said that, something went snap-bang - he loves. Just as if, when he utters that word, something extraordinary is bound to happen, with signs and portents, and all the cannons firing at once. It seems to me, he went on, that people who solemnly utter those words, 'I love you,' either deceive themselves, or what's still worse, deceive others.

Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts, Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face, When discontent sits heavy at my heart.