Best 122 quotes in «heartbeat quotes» category

Could I hold your hands for a moment, and your heart forever?

Each stroke of your fingers is a different word that describes the story. By itself it’s meaningless, but—” I pushed down on a few fingers helping her play a few notes. “String them together and you have a melody. You have a story. So, Saylor, what story do you want to tell?

Distance unites missing beats of two hearts in love

Each heartbeat begins with a single, electrical impulse, or "spark." The distinctive sound we hear through a stethoscope, or when we place our head on a loved one's chest, is the sound of the heart valves opening and closing in perfect synchronicity with each other. It is a two-party rhythm - a delicate dance of systole and diastole, which propels the heart's electrically charged particles through its chambers roughly every second of the day, every day of our lives.

Echo of the waves appears in the sky, their lights reflected in your eyes. I'm back in our world and happy again. The sound of your voice, compassionate embrace... The power in your touch, serenity of stride... The beating of your heart calms down my presence, gracing with eternal peace of mind... Bathing in the sunshine of your arms I'm deeply aware of the melodic stream that has no language...gliding beneath the quiet Heaven of your eyes...

Flowers enshrine my heart between their petals; that's why my heartbeats love them so much

Find strength in your heartbeat, than weakness with a beat heart. Take each breath as another chance, and love for a new day.

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

Four of the cops stood back. As if joined by one brain, one beating heart, they stepped forward together and their batons descended. King knew she would remember, drifting toward sleep some day far removed, the solid thump the wood made falling upon him. It was the sound of the true heartbeat of the world, and once it had been heard, there was no way to stop hearing it. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. and what was it in that long and prolonged instant -- what was it that told her this pain would go on forever? What was happening there was no erasing. There would be no apologies, no forgetting, no reconciliations. Just the opening to the pain that is your friend dead or shot or starved or beaten.

Half asleep and half awake, I became lost in a deep span of my version of a perfect world. A place I wanted so desperately to reach, but would never find except from within the catacombs of my mind. A place where the sun rose in the west and set in the east, where the mountains bowed to the wind like trees, and the rain sprinkled up from the ground below and onto the clouds above. A place where no one hurt or lost, or felt any tinge of desperation. A place where heartbeats were the only words needed, and music floated on the wind like dust. A place where no place was home. Where a single person could be the only sustenance needed to survive. A place where there were no yesterdays or todays, only tomorrows. A place for me to find solace, an escape from the real world I was forced to live in.

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

I do it to remind myself of everything. My heart was beating through the worst parts of my life and, if it’s still beating, its a reminder that I’m still alive, despite everything.

If we don’t live by God’s heartbeat, by what He has in His heart, then we are wasting our time and life

Hell was full of clocks, he was sure of it. There was no torment, after all, that could not be exacerbated by a contemplation of time passing. The large case clock at the end of the corridor had a particularly penetrating tick-tock, audiable above and through all the noises of the house. It seemed to Lord John Grey to echo his own heartbeats, each one a step on the road towards death.

I didn't know until then how much i liked him. I liked the way he called me Miss Okomma. I liked they way he said it, how he didn't hesitate, didn't stumble, as though he'd practised it. I thought about it too much, about him too much; the space between each thought getting shorter and shorter until days became hours became minutes became heartbeats and then he was all I could think about.

If we feel affected by the dreariness of the mad scramble, we have to stand back, take a break and override the droning humdrum of the treadmill; and let the exaltation of the day decide; and follow inspiring pathways to the true heartbeat of our life. ("Mutatis mutandi")

I know my fickle heart still beats because of my mother's heartbeat.

I kissed him softly and left my lips pressed to his for a few beats of my heart.

Ingrid's skin was the smoothest texture, so pale that it was transparent. I could see the blue veins that ran down her arms, and they made her seem fragile somehow. the way Eric Daniels, my first boyfriend, seemed fragile when I laid my head on his chest and heart his heart beating and thought, Oh. People don't always remember about the blood and the heartbeat. But whenever I looked at Ingrid, I was reminded of the things that kept her alive.

I'm your other half. (...) I'll carry your heartbeat in mine.

...I remember that my mother had always said to be polite and finish my meal. At last he gave no more struggles. The deed was done. Now the boat contained four men, not one heartbeat among us. The fate they had destined for another claimed them as well. The irony of it all was more delicious than the blood consumed. -- Quote by Lane DeLuca

In the dull, persistent beat of her heart, she hears the rhythm of hope. It is faint and thin as a thread, but it is there.

love is a choice between heart and mind.

Listening to her heartbeat, 'I love you' He said.

It was soothing to sit with life-long friends, the cacophony of bar sounds around us while we caught up on our lives and talked about the glory days of high school. My life since then had been on an accelerated trajectory, not always aimed in the best direction. I acquired a sense of well-being from those friends who married their high school sweethearts, set up housekeeping a stone's throw from where they grew up, and kept the heartbeat of small-town living beating rhythmically.

I’ve become your heartbeat making you mine Upon every kiss of passion our souls shine

Love is the name of an irrepressible moment formed inside one complete pulsation of a heart

...music, if it really resonates, will beat somewhere right near your heartbeat. That music will make sense to you...because it's in rhythm with your soul.

Maybe all you need to do is find the heartbeat in everything. And if writing is living, the discovery of the beat of a heart, then when you read me, you are living by my side.

Most sane human beings who have managed to attain and retain fame each uses it to dramatically increase their name’s chances of being remembered until Jesus comes back, since their heart cannot do what they consciously or unconsciously lust for, that is to say, for it to beat until Jesus returns.

My head rested against your chest like a love song is the rhythm of your heart... That seems to be a serenade only for me assuring me that we will never be apart.

My heart pounded annoyingly in my ears, and it was getting harder to stay focused. I'd almost gotten trapped in here, and now I'd come back. Sometimes I did have truly terrible ideas.

My parents warned me about the drugs in the streets but never the ones with soft eyes and a heartbeat.

The air delighted her nose—fresher and crisper compared to the air in the grimy ghetto, even better than in the city. She rubbed her chest where the dart had hit. Her heart beat powerfully inside her—fueled by fear. It felt as if it would burst, and she mentally tried to slow it down. Strange, she thought, these may be some of its last beats in her chest. Was that why it beat so fiercely?

Nervousness made her feel nauseous, almost like she had two hearts frantically beating in her chest, instead of one.

People not only stood to respect it but perhaps their thoughts and heartbeats came to standstill, and only inspiration and patriotism was flowing through their veins.

She used to say that the human heartbeat was the first music that a person heard, and that every child was born knowing the rhythm of her mother's song.

Sometimes all we need is a hug that will make us feel home. The heartbeats that sound like a lullaby and the eyes which assure us that the world is not such a bad a place yet every time we stare into them.

So today, learn to live consciously. Listen to the rhythm of your heartbeat and how the air feels on your skin and watch life as it happens around you. Worries go away when you live in the NOW.

Stop for a moment and listen to your heart beat and with each beat know this, that feeling, that beating heart is a loving heart just waiting to give to someone else that love building up inside of you.

My pen beats faster as I write with my heart

Teach them the shame that tells the lie, “I am unforgivable,” when the truth is, “I feel unforgivable, but it was out of my control.” Never let them switch those round right or The Adversary will liberate them in a heartbeat, like a bird flying from a cage.

The heartbeat of God burns with longing for the redemption of every individual

The first music I ever heard was only one hundred and sixty days after I was conceived. Da dum Da dum Da dum Have you ever heard the sound a blessing makes? This is it. The first thing I ever saw was only one hundred and eighty days after I was conceived. It was a bright light soft like clouds warm like candles. Have you ever seen the colour of a blessing? This is it. The first time I ever suffered was in the three thousand and sixty seconds after I was born. I listened for her heartbeat. I searched for her light. I cried for the first time until she was born. Have you ever known a blessing? A twin is it.

The Glory Of God Is The Eternal Heartbeat Of God

The crickets were listening. The night was listening to her. For a change, all of the far summer-night meadows and close summer-night trees were suspending motion; leaf, shrub, star, and meadow grass ceased their particular tremors and were listening to Lavinia Nebbs’s heart. And perhaps a thousand miles away, across locomotive-lonely country, in an empty way station, a single traveler reading a dim newspaper under a solitary naked bulb, might raise up his head, listen, and think, What’s that? and decide, Only a woodchuck, surely, beating on a hollow log. But it was Lavinia Nebbs, it was most surely the heart of Lavinia Nebbs.

the first physician who is known to have counted the pulse, Herophilos of Alexandria (born 300 B.C.), lived in Egypt.

Those who pretend as if they don't love you, are the ones who would hate to see you love another person.

The rhythm of fraught footsteps and fervent heartbeat orchestrated a symphony of anticipation and dread.

The man I picture in my mind is someone ordinary like me. Maybe he’s wearing glasses, maybe he’s not so handsome, but it’s how he loves me that’s extraordinary. It doesn’t matter how many people there are in a room. He knows when I’m there and he’ll find me right away, because I’m his heart and you always have to know where your heartbeat’s coming from.