Best 23562 quotes in «heart quotes» category

I would not knock old fellows in the dust But there lay Captain Carpenter on his back His weapons were the old heart in his bust And a blade shook between rotten teeth alack.

I wouldn’t be able to write a song like “Someone Like You” and get someone else to sing it because it’s so personal. It’s like giving away your heart.

I would rather feel the hurt inside, yes I would darling, than know the emptiness that your heart must hide.

I wouldnt mind having my heart broken because it would mean that I had that much feeling connected to somebody. And that would be really great.

I would rather drown myself in the waters of the Sabarmati than harbour hate or animosity in my heart.

I would rather go out of politics having the feeling that I had done what was right than stay in with the approval of all men, knowing in my heart that I have acted as I ought not to.

I would rather have a player who showed a bit of heart out there than one who just accepted things.

I would say that I'm a nonviolent soldier. In place of weapons of violence, you have to use your mind, your heart, your sense of humor, every faculty available to you...because no one has the right to take the life of another human being.

I would rather my enemy's sword pierce my heart then my friend's dagger stab me in the back." Faustus - Don't Talk Back To Your Vampire

I would sooner perish for ever than stoop down before a Being who may have power to crush me, but whom my heart forbids me to reverence.

I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fadeand flee; And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky, Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.

I would stare at the grains of light suspended in that silent space, struggling to see into my own heart. What did I want? And what did others want from me? But I could never find the answers. Sometimes I would reach out and try to grasp the grains of light, but my fingers touched nothing.

I would still be singing, because it's part of my heart and my soul, and it lifts me up. Find something you would do for free.

I would wake up in Moscow or somewhere else, my heart beating fast, feeling bitter and helpless.

I would walk a thousand miles To feel your hugs and see your smiles But then one day we had to part The hardest day, it broke my heart But I still see you every day Because in my heart and mind you stay.

I would want to affirm how rare and magnificent and messy it is to be alive, how there is really nothing between us and life, though so many things get in the way, and how our heart is the strongest muscle and resource we have.

I would take it to heart if people were mad about something my character did.

I write because to write a new sentence, let alone a new poem, is to cross the threshold into both a larger existence and a profound mystery. A thought was not there, then it is. An image, a story, an idea about what it is to be human, did not exist, then it does. With every new poem, an emotion new to the heart, to the world, speaks itself into being.

I write as well as I can. I'm a journalist at heart, so it's the story that matters.

I write essays to clear my mind. I write fiction to open my heart.

I write for one and only one purpose, to overcome the invincible ignorance of the traduced heart. I wish to speak to and for those who have had enough of the Social Lie, the Economics of Mass Murder, the Sexual Hoax, and the Domestication of Conspicuous Consumption.

I write novels about ordinary women who face seemingly insurmountable odds, but through courage and determination find their heart's desire.

I write to empty my mind and to fill my heart.

I write what I see and whatever inspires me. The energy the earth gives me, what's on my mind, or what's in my heart becomes part of the lyrical content.

I write the word solitude on my wall and then below it: Do you know me at all? Are my words just air? Is my heart easy to spare?

I write with all my heart

I wrote home to say how lovely everything was, and I used flourishing words and phrases, as if I were living life in a greeting card - the kind that has a satin ribbon on it, and quilted hearts and roses, and is expected to be so precious to the person receiving it that the manufacturer has placed a leaf of plastic on the front to protect it.

I you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer, stare a little longer. Because there is something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself, you signed it THEY WERE WRONG.

James had given his heart to this girl, Magnus thought, and Magnus knew well enough from Edmund and Will what it meant when a Herondale gave his heart away. It was not a gift that could be returned.

Jacqueline Carey has created a postmodern fable of enormous scope and force. Santa Olivia is at once a cautionary tale of people caught in a web of lies and creeping terror, and a love song to the beauty and power of being different. At the novel's heart is the kind of grace Carey is known for: an illumination of the strength that lies hidden inside all of us.

Janis Joplin didn't just sing a song, she took it over. She swallowed it whole, then sent it back through her gut and her heart.

Jazz hadn't given her many details of exactly what life in the Dent house had been like, but he'd told her enough that she knew it wasn't hearts and flowers. Well, except for the occasional heart cut from a chest. And the kind of flowers you send to funerals.

Jealousy is never satisfied with anything short of an omniscience that would detect the subtlest fold of the heart.

Jeff is the annoying kind of Scrabble player who plays a lot of obscure two-letter words that shouldn't count but for whatever reason are considered legitimate. My father is the annoying kind of Scrabble player who takes hours with his turn and then plays deliberately misspelled words that no one has the heart to call him out on. I am the perfect Scrabble player, both serious and considerate. Obviously I lost by a lot.

Jeff Klein, one of the earliest champions of Conscious Capitalism, offers a highly practical yet profoundly intuitive blueprint for achieving your purpose-and making a difference at work. You will return to Working for Good again and again. It belongs on your desk and in your heart.

Jem--Jem is all the better part of myself. I would not expect you to understand. I owe him this." "Then what am I?" Cecily asked. Will exhaled, too exasperated to check himself. "You are my weakness." "And Tessa is your heart," she said, not angrily, but thoughtfully. "Not a fool, as I told you," she added at his startled expression. I know that you love her.

Jem seemed to look through her then, as if he were seeing something beyond her, beyond the corridor, beyond the Institute itself. "Whatever you are physically," he said, "male or female, strong or weak, ill or healthy--all those things matter less than what your heart contains. If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. All those other things, they are the glass that contains the lamp, but you are the light inside." He smiled them, seeming to have come back to himself, slightly embarrassed. "That's what I believe.

Jem put the full force of himself into each smile, so that he seemed to be smiling with his eyes, his heart, his whole being.

Jennifer Fulwiler's story of finding God when you aren't looking for Him is a universal tale which will touch many hearts. With warmth and unflinching candor she leads us through a personal journey of faith and maturity that is as funny as it is affecting.

Jesse: " Hey Rose, welcome back. Still breaking hearts?" Rose: " Are you volunteering?

Jesus Christ and all the writers of the New Testament call us to break free of mammon lust and live in joyous trust...They point us toward a way of living in which everything we have we receive as a gift, and everything we have is cared for by God, and everything we have is available to others when it is right and good. This reality frames the heart of Christian simplicity. It is the means of liberation and power to do what is right and to overcome the forces of fear and avarice.

Jeffré [Phillips] is the most wonderful guy in the world. He has the most wonderful heart, he's a beautiful human being, and I just simply adore him. It's so interesting how you have to switch your thoughts and your feelings when you're working together as a business partner with your best friend and, all of a sudden, love enters the picture. It's such a beautiful thing, but at the same time, you're trying to decide, "Where do I place this?

Jesus Christ, Lord of all things! You see my heart, you know my desires. Possess all that I am - you alone. I am your sheep; make me worthy to overcome the devil.

Jesus commissioned his church to make disciples of all nations. In this carefully researched work, Thomas Hudgins fleshes out the methods and goals to achieve this divinely ordained assignment. I am thankful for the heart and passion of Thomas. You will find them emerging from the pages of this work.

Jesus could weep. Sometimes when you look at the ugliness that makes you weep, you know that the heart of God is also weeping. Jesus is for real. He does not give up on anyone, least of all on me.

Jean Jacques Rousseauis nothing but a fool in my eyes when he takes it upon himself to criticise society; he did not understand it, and approached it with the heart of an upstart flunkey.... For all his preaching a Republic and the overthrow of monarchical titles, the upstart is mad with joy if a Duke alters the course of his after-dinner stroll to accompany one of his friends.

Jerusalem the Golden, With milk and honey blest, eneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed.

Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, even persecutors, the worst of sinners: his righteousness is sufficient for them; his Spirit is able to purify and change their hearts.

Jesus Christ has undertaken by His redemption to put in me a heart so pure that God can see nothing to censure.

Jem, Cecily thought, with a pang in her heart. Her brother had always looked to him as a kind of North Star, a compass that would ever point him toward the right decision. She had never quite thought of her brother as lucky before, and certainly would not have expected to do so today, and yet-and yet in a way he had been. To always have someone to turn to like that, and not to worry constantly that one was looking to the wrong stars.