Daneel has to think about this for a moment. "I can draw parallels," he says at last. "After witnessing something unpleasant I can not prevent, I will experience an uncomfortable sensation analogous to 'shock.' I can regret something that I did not wish to occur. There have been individuals whose presence seems to make my positronic pathways flow more smoothly, more easily, stronger, which I would say is very pleasant. Such people I would term to be my friends, and I can miss that sensation when it's gone, or when I know I won't experience it again."

Perhaps he should be using the past tense.

"I could say that human emotions are more... physical. At least, they are physical in a sense that goes beyond the brain. If I was told I must do something I disliked the implications of, I would feel it here," he touches his head, "which might make it difficult for me to walk, or speak. When Partner Elijah died, I could not at first walk at all. This sort of grief is overwhelming. I feel it here, and here." He touches his chest, his stomach, trying to communicate the terrible clenching of his gut, the shortness of his breath, the pain in his chest that comes with hard crying, but not at all sure he knows the right words to describe.