Best 23562 quotes in «heart quotes» category

Greed blinds the hearts ability to see.

Growing older doesn't mean that you are more mature than everyone who is younger than you. Maturity is a lot of things, and age has nothing to do with it.

Guard your heart, it is the well spring of life.

Guils is the greatest weapon vecause its cuts rarely heal and it aims for the heart

Guard your heart and mind against double-minded pretentious beings. Do not allow infiltration beyond the surface. If their influence travels on the inside, they become like an incurable disease.

Guard your heart: Mysterious things happen in there. Stand as the watchman of your soul, And be careful about what you let in. For, therefrom, come all your life's issues.

Had he already inspired a passion in some stranger’s heart?

-Haces que merezca la pena que mi corazón continúe latiendo- Susurró contra mi cuello. Alcé la cabeza y lo miré a los ojos. -Y tú que el mío dejara de hacerlo.

Hammered into the Heart In the Sufi tradition light and knowledge are reflected from heart to heart. The heart is the organ of the higher consciousness — the consciousness of the Self. Spiritual teachings can be reflected or impressed directly into the heart, bypassing the limitations of the mind. . . . A further part of the Sufi training is to bring the mind into the heart, the mind 'hammered into the heart' as the Sufis say, so that the teachings given to the heart can be assimilated into everyday consciousness. A mind that has been brought into the heart can understand the ways of oneness, which are often paradoxical, sometimes even nonsensical, to the rational self.

Handwritten letters make you realize how bad your writing is but how clean is your heart which still feeds hope.

Happiness depends not on things around me, but on my attitude. Alfred Montapert The monument of a great man is not of granite or marble or bronze. It consists of his goodness, his deeds, his love and his compassion. Alfred Montapert No better words than "thank you" have yet been discovered to express the sincere gratitude of one's heart, when the two words are sincerely spoken. Alfred Montapert The man or woman you really love will never grow old to you. Through the wrinkles of time, through the bowed frame of years, you will always see the dear face and feel the warm heart union of eternal love. Alfred Montapert The finest piece of mechanism in all the universe is the brain of man. The wise person develops his brain and opens his mind to the genius and spirit of the world's greatest ideas. He will feel inspired with the purest and noblest thoughts that have ever animated the spirit of humanity. Alfred Montapert.

Happiness is not found in a life lived for the expectations of others. Rather than seek happiness living my life to please the will of others, I will seek happiness where I know it can be found—living my life to please the will of my heart.

Happy is the heart of the king when gifts come to him. And when every foreign land [comes], that is our success, that is our fortune. What shall we do about it ? All is ruin!

Harbour no hatred in your heart against anyone. People who do this have placed their influence on the risky line.

Has your heartbeat ever been so loud it sounded like voices in your ears?

Hate leaves a scar on your heart; love leaves a beauty mark on your soul.

Hate may have its hour, but love will have its day.

Have and show motivation to do and learn. That's the key for a good career. Everything else is an extrapolation of that.

. . . have not some religions, including the most influential forms of Christianity, taught that the heart of man is totally corrupt? How could the course of religion in its entire sweep not be marked by practices that are shameful in their cruelty and lustfulness, and by beliefs that are degraded and intellectually incredible? What else than what we can find could be expected, in the case of people having little knowledge and no secure method of knowing; with primitive institutions, and with so little control of natural forces that they lived in a constant state of fear?

Have you ever asked yourself this question "what can God do through me?" The preacher has no platform if the people has no sense of mission.

Have you ever loved someone so much, you felt like your heart was going to just beat right out of your chest?

Have you ever reached to a point where you asked God if the assignment is really from Him. In your account you have just 100 dollars and He is asking you to execute a 400 million dollar project. Have you reached to the point that you consider going further will make no sense? Have you reached the point where you asked God are you sure you are still with me? I just found myself in that Junction now. Turning back ....to realise I have gone too far for Him to forsake me. Moving forward I heard the voice saying ...be still and know that I am your God. Giving up.....Couldn't find it in my dictionary. Moral of the lesson. God cannot give you an assignment that is equal to your pocket. If it suits your pocket it is definitely not from God. Remember God will not take glory where nothing happen.

Have you ever had a dream that you were certain was real, only to wake up and realize that everyone and everything in the dream was really you? Well this is how many mystics describe the nature of our reality, as a dream in which we think we are individual personalities existing in the physical universe. But eventually, like in all dreams, we will wake up. Except in this dream we do not wake up to realize we are still in the world, we awake from the world to realize that we are God.

Have you listened to your heart?

Have you ever make out time to ask God if there is anything or anybody you need to drop in your life? Are you still holding on to offences? When is the right time to drop it? I am sure once you make this attempt He will show you. I declare that God is going to set some captives free.

Having a rough morning? Place your hand over your heart. Feel that? It's called purpose. You're alive for a reason. Don't give up!

Healing takes place in the heart.

Hearts Don't Reject Love Fear of rejection slaughters the voice from our heart But time is short And life is to be lived So don't fear to speak your hearts truth What you feel matters more than the thoughts or opinions of other's And rejection is an impeding, sinister state of mind... Remember, hearts don't reject love, only minds do that The existential truth is that we are all exposed We are all vulnerable Whether we are fierce enough to admit it…or not

Hearts have quite abandoned it

Heart as collapsed time, as a dug-up grave, as simple machine. Heart as big black bugs bleed blue blood. Heart as MI frozen as seen from airplane, everything still and white and beautiful. Heart as the Day the Music Died. Heart as love being made, as fucking, as a pleasantly haunted house. Heart as a dim memory of a dark room in which you’re molded wetasscracked into a beanbag chair, fumbling for wetness. Come hither. Heart as a cunt’s supposed to smell like tuna. Heart as the star of the sea. Heart as a pussy in permanent bloom. Heart as doxycycline. Heart as waxwings, as a fudge round, as the phone rings once and then stops. Heart as throw your hands in the air, throw your art at the stars, stutter and stare. Heart as a Stratocaster. Heart as Twin Reverb. Heart as I heart you so much. Heart as all that we thought we knew in the world disappears into vapor. Heart as the rest of your life times the weight of the world squared.

Heart can keep a secret, but face is not a good secret keeper! So what heart knows, face will expose it!

Hearts are like Books. You cannot understand one by flipping the pages or by reading the last chapter

Heart Some people sell their blood. You sell your heart. It was either that or the soul. The hard part is getting the damn thing out. A kind of twisting motion, like shucking an oyster, your spine a wrist, and then, hup! it's in your mouth. You turn yourself partially inside out like a sea anemone coughing a pebble. There's a broken plop, the racket of fish guts into a pail, and there it is, a huge glistening deep-red clot of the still-alive past, whole on the plate. It gets passed around. It's slithery. It gets dropped, but also tasted. Too coarse, says one. Too salty. Too sour, says another making a face. Each on is an instant gourmet, and you stand listening to all this in the corner, like a newly hired waiter, your diffident, skillful hand on the wound hidden deep in your shirt and chest, shyly, heartless.

Heart is a vessel of collective experiences

Heart Rings What stories would our bones tell if they had rings like trees? circles marking the times when you felt loved when you were in love when you grieved when you did something that required every last ounce of your courage when you were full of faith — That is how our hearts work a lone, rhythmic documentarian chronicling your life in the shadow of your flesh mysterious even to its owner And someday we might learn that it was drawing a map for the soul to navigate the real final frontier

Heart; I named my lass sweetly; She danced to the mundane tunes of daftness; By nature she was midsummer madness; Or rather a reckless, careless, devil-may-care colleen. I pampered all her hefty desires; Brain; my friend said treat her with caution; For she is a child; doesn’t ruminate her action; You are mother, with deep devotion. And one fine day came the tempest darling; She named him love, besotted and infatuated; Enchanted by his charms, smelled the roses; Failed to see the thorns that pricked. And drip-drip-drip, the blood it dripped; When her beloved tossed and crushed her core; She knew not how to stand up straight; I opened my eyes and the driblets fell. Don’t nurse her; said my friend; my brain; For she is a demented lass not worth the pain; She will go away when her wounds are dried; To her unmoved brutal hero, Love. A mother cannot be unmoved, I cried; For all this time, I held her high; I knocked at your door, you flinty villain; Not to hear, all that you said. Call me a demon or a dragon; For all I will say is don’t nurse the brat; Let her bleed and cry for some more time; She will get up; for she is your child. All he said was unerred truth; She bled and nursed her own wounds; She drove me to her hero’s place; And said, “This is where my poem stays.

Hearts In Me If I look to the world with hearts in my eyes Then surely I’ll be intrigued and inspired. If I touch the world with hearts in my hands Then surely I’ll learn how to understand. If I listen to the world with hearts in my ears Then surely I’ll truly be able to hear. If I speak with the world with hearts in my mouth Then surely I’ll be kind and gentle enough. If I think of the world with hearts in my mind Then surely I’ll be awake to all life. If I reach for the world with hearts in my palms Then surely its love will flow through my arms

Hearts everywhere bear scars of one form of hurt or the other, and it is necessary to keep this in mind when trying to understand why a person is the way he or she is.

Heart’s fragrance is spent with the ending of spring And nothing left but a tear-stained robe.

Heart, where lives God, it is a place of love, and the peace. Where lives the evil, it is a place of hatred and the tense.

He came of a race of drinkers who look contemptuously upon an alcoholic content of twelve percent, unaware that the fermented grape works its enchantments more subtly than the distilled spirits of grain. I do not imply that he was drunk; let us say, rather, that the Tears of Christ opened his heart.

Heaven lies in the heart of humankind.

He came to the conclusion that it was because there were some things you remembered with your head, like numbers, and other things you remembered with your heart, like shapes, colours, and shadows. He was a heart-memory type.

Heaven lies in the heart.

He could, Andi." Andi's heart turned to ice. It wasn't possible. He was dead, cast away into some deep, dark hell where he'd never be able to claw his way back out.

He belongs to a whorehouse, not in my heart

He clutched at his chest, trying to find the pendant that hung there, to hold onto the reality of it, the reality of his age and the time in which he was living, but the shadows surrounded him on all sides and the fear grew in his heart and he was only a frightened little boy.

He'd come a rather long way to experience life within the beating heart of London. Now, stalking the streets of the Chapel, experimenting with how much such a heart can take before it stops beating altogether.

He'd failed them, the swimming goldfish of his life's tiny existence whom he held so dear in his heart; he'd turned his muses into mistakes and no one knew the difference but him.

He gave her a lopsided grin that buckled her knees. Stole her breath. Made her heart zing a hundred miles an hour. Maybe it was a good thing Caden Wallis didn't smile more often.