Words for feelings you could never quite name
Some feelings go unnamed for years because the word for them lives in a monastery, a psychology paper, or another language entirely. Naming a mood is halfway to handling it.
a state of listless apathy or spiritual torpor, especially a weary indifference to things that should matter
The monk described acedia as the “noonday demon,” a creeping numbness toward prayer itself.
an intense, often involuntary state of infatuation marked by obsessive thoughts about the object of one's affection
The novel captures the dizzy limerence of a first crush with uncomfortable accuracy.
pleasure derived from another person's misfortune or embarrassment
He felt a flicker of schadenfreude watching his rival's presentation crash mid-slide.
a vague, often lingering sense of unease, discomfort, or diminished well-being, physical or emotional
A general malaise hung over the newsroom after the third round of layoffs.
a state of mental or emotional sluggishness and inertia, marked by a near-total lack of energy or interest
A summer torpor settled over the small town, and even the dogs stopped barking at noon.
mental calmness and composure, especially in a difficult situation
She received the difficult diagnosis with a calm equanimity that startled her doctors.
The pattern in all of these: once you have the word, you start noticing the feeling — in yourself and in books. That noticing is what Verba's daily cadence is built to feed.
