Best 23562 quotes in «heart quotes» category

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

Hearts aren't handcuffs and people aren't prisons. When you feel it's time for you to leave, you leave. You neither need to wait to be released, nor ask for permission.

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 belongs to a whorehouse, not in my heart

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 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 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'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 felt like his own heart might stop beating just from acknowledging the concept. The sadness, the sorrow, and the loss, they were living things, funnily enough.

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.

He gave me the one thing he's never given to anyone before.. He gave me his heart, and his trust. And in return, I gave him the same right back....

He grabbed my hand and that’s when I felt my heart beat for the very first time.

He fell in love with her house and land, He fell in love with her pension plan, He worked his way to her lonely heart, He was quite wily from the very start.

He had been dazzled. Because of the dazzling brightness, he had had to kill [Seigen]. All who had encountered Seigen had had their hearts stolen by that brightness. That envy had turned to malice.

He had no doubt that Merrin had called out to God here in this place while she was been raped and killed, in her heart if not with her voice. God's reply had been that due to the high volume of calls she could expect to be on hold until she was dead.

..he had trampled her poor, pining heart, and the wound was still raw, even these many years later.

He is a true casualty of battle. There's not a physical scar, but look at the man's heart, and his head, and there are scars galore.

He has a magic touch. He can turn a G into a C. My heart was made of gold; now it's all cold.

He is indeed the true enchanter, whose spell operates, not upon the senses, but upon the imagination and the heart.

Hekima ni fikra inayotoka moyoni, busara ni hekima inayozungumzwa.

He lived then before me, he lived as much as he had ever lived---a shadow insatiable of splendid appearances, of frightful realities, a shadow darker than the shadow of the night, and draped nobly in the folds of a gorgeous eloquence. The vision seemed to enter the house with me---the stretcher, the phantom-bearers, the wild crowd of obedient worshipers, the gloom of the forests, the glitter of the reach between the murky bends, the beat of the drum regular and muffled like the beating of a heart, the heart of a conquering darkness.

He left his footprints burnt into my heart.

He looked down at his boots. "That berth belongs to you too. It will always be there when―if you want to come back." Inej could not speak. Her heart felt too full, a dry creek bed ill-prepared for such rain. "I don't know what to say.

He may care for her, though she really has been almost rude to him at times. But she! – why, Margaret would never think of him, I’m sure! Such a thing has never entered her head." "Entering her heart would do.

He may have stolen my heart or had he taken my soul? I couldn’t be sure but I refused to let him have my pride too.

Helping other people can be a cure not just for those who are in need, but for your soul as well.

Her beauty effortlessly managed to arrest the pulse of each heart at the office and keep it in a dreamlike cage where she could have a look at each at her will and derive pleasure that, it had to be said, was a touch malicious in nature.

He puts us here to make an eternal difference. He puts us here to show everyone around us how much He loves them. He puts us here to be His hands and feet, His body and His heart.

He painted with the brain, and he could not help knowing that the only painting worth anything was done with the heart. (375)

Here It's like the song of a family where everything's always all right, it's a song of belonging that makes you belong just by hearing it, it's a song that'll always take care of you and never leave you. If you have a heart, it breaks, if you have a heart that's broken, it fixes.

Here in your heart, deep in your soul, resides the universe’s collective wisdom, waiting for expression through your life’s experience.

Her heart is like a singing bird , Whose nest is in a water'd shoot ...

Her eyes reversed into herself, to watch the secret heart of herself pounding itself into pieces against the side of her chest.

Her love is safe inside his heart for he is her armor.