Quotes About Heart

Oh, who could have foretold That the heart grows old?

IF this importunate heart trouble your peace With words lighter than air

O hiding hair and dewy eyes, I am no more with life and death, My heart upon his warm heart lies, My breath is mixed into his breath.

With us nothing has time to gather meaning, and too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold.

Aedh tells of the perfect Beauty" O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman's gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skies: And therefore my heart will bow, when dew Is dropping sleep, until God burn time, Before the unlabouring stars and you.

TO HIS HEART, BIIDING IT HAVE NO FEAR Be you still, be you still, trembling heart; Remember the wisdom out of the old days: Him who trembles before the flame and the flood, And the winds that blow through the starry ways, Let the starry winds and the flame and the flood Cover over and hide, for he has no part With the lonely, majestical multitude.

So like a bit of stone I lie Under a broken tree. I could recover if I shrieked My heart's agony To passing bird, but I am dumb.

Be you still, be you still, trembling heart; Remember the wisdom out of the old days: *Him who trembles before the flame and the flood, And the winds that blow through the starry ways, Let the starry winds and the flame and the flood Cover over and hide, for he has no part With the lonely, majestical multitude*.

The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away.

The old brown thorn trees break in two high over Cummen Strand   Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;   Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies,   But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes   Of Cathleen the daughter of Hoolihan.

I cast my heart into my rhymes, That you, in the dim coming times, May know how my heart went with them

It is very near us that country is, it is on every side; it may be on the bare hill behind it is, or it may be in the heart of the wood.

You shall love your crooked neighbor with you crooked heart.

The desires of the heart are as crooked as corkscrews Not to be born is the best for man The second best is a formal order The dance's pattern, dance while you can. Dance, dance, for the figure is easy The tune is catching and will not stop Dance till the stars come down from the rafters Dance, dance, dance till you drop.

O stand, stand at the window As the tears scald and start; You shall love your crooked neighbour With your crooked heart.

Follow, poet, follow right To the bottom of the night, With your unconstraining voice Still persuade us to rejoice; With the farming of a verse Make a vineyard of the curse, Sing of human unsuccess In a rapture of distress; In the deserts of the heart Let the healing fountain start, In the prison of his days Teach the free man how to praise.

And none will hear the postman's knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

You shall love your crooked neighbour with your crooked heart.

Look into my eyes, and you will see me there--all, all that is in my heart.' 'Oh, I know what I should see there!'...'What would you see? Tell me?' 'There is a little black ball in the middle of your eye; I should see myself in it no bigger than that,' and she marked off about an eighth of her little finger-nail. 'There is a pool in the wood, and I look down and see myself there. That is better. Just as large as I am--not small and black like a small, small fly.

I know that some of us, and for some reason I am one of them, get to reach out and touch our heart's desire, like a child who gets to pet the nose of an old horse, soft as satin, safe as a grandfather's lap. And I know, too, that when most people reach for that heart's desire, it appears not as a horse but as a tiger, and they are rewarded with snarls, frustration, and disillusionment.

A heart will say amazing things if it's given half a chance.

Home is where the heart is, until we get a chance to bury it. Home is where the heart pulled the nails out of its feet, and fled.

I never stood a chance. He stole your heart first.

I don't write on topics that require a lot of urgency. But in 'Stiff,' I wanted to change people's hearts about organ donation. Whenever I get a chance, I try to talk about that.