Feeling (n.) cannot guide action, because feeling is formed by the deeds one does: I love my mother enough to stay only if I have stayed.
Feeling (n.) is not a subjective shiver but a way of transcending: hate is hate of someone, love is love of someone.
Feeling (n.) is not my private property: when Peter and Paul discuss Peter's love they speak of the same thing, and it is no more certain for Peter than for Paul.
Feeling (n.) aimed at a real thing is sent back enriched, as light from a screen — at each moment perception overflows and sustains it, until what is felt and what is perceived cannot be told apart.
Feeling (n.) is not an empty consciousness: it is already possession — the absent beloved's hands come back to me in their affective form, as something fine, graceful, pure, present.
Feeling (n.) recalled at will lacks not sincerity but casualness, docility, richness: the gap between feeling-passion and feeling-action is the gap between a cancer patient's distress and that of the hypochondriac who believes he has cancer.