Quotes About Heart

Those tears were jewels to crown the heart of any singer, and I shall never forget them.

Having learned the trick of beating and loving and suffering, the poor faithful heart persisted, although it lived on memories and carried on its sentimental operations mostly in secret.

The whole reason for telling the fairy tales is to awaken the heart. To help people believe that misfortune can be overcome and evil conquered.

I make money using my brains and lose money listening to my heart. But in the long run my books balance pretty well.

The road to death is a long march beset with all evils, and the heart fails little by little at each new terror, the bones rebel at each step, the mind sets up its own bitter resistance and to what end? The barriers sink one by one, and no covering of the eyes shuts out the landscape of disaster, nor the sight of crimes committed there.

Like colors or a spring tree against that kind ofblue sky that pulls your heart out through your eyes. Pretty things will swarm you like that, like your heart was a hive of electric bees.

We are trying to communicate that which lies in our deepest heart, which has no words, which can only be hinted at through the means of a story. And somehow, miraculously, a story that comes from deep in my heart calls from a reader that which is deepest in his or her heart, and together from our secret hidden selves we create a story that neither of us could have told alone.

I think, she began quietly, I think we want... not just bread for our bellies. We want more than only bread. We want food for our hearts, our souls. We want- how to say it? We want, you know- Puccini music.... we want for our beautiful children some beauty. She leaned over and kissed the curl on her finger. We want roses....

True hospitality is marked by an open response to the dignity of each and every person. Henri Nouwen has described it as receiving the stranger on his own terms, and asserts that it can be offered only by those who 'have found the center of their lives in their own hearts'.

But hope has an astonishing resilience and strength. Its very persistence in our hearts indicates that it is not a tonic for wishful thinkers but the ground on which realists stand.

The intricacies of contracts and the evolving stringency of the rules governing banks absorbed and grounded me, even as my entanglements with men—queer men, as Felix taught me to say—gave my body and heart the occasional flight.

calipers. Mary had never had the heart to

Bib Block was sure that in any part of the country at all, whenever the name of this road was mentioned, people's hearts pivoted like Moslems to the east and flopped over. Sooner of later, he believed, at one stage of the journey or another, all roads led to the New Jersey Turnpike.

T is not faces, not color, not appearnces that matter. - Soren

Legenda adalah kisah yang kau rasakan dalam empedalmu dimana dengan berjalan­­nya waktu akan menjadi nyata di dalam hatimu. --Nasihat seekor burung hantu kepada anaknya--

Indeed, nobility is not always found in the flash of battle claws or flying through the embered wakes of firestorms, or even in making strong the weak, mending the broken, vanquishing the proud, or making powerless those who abuse the frail." Soren's gizzard grew quiet as Boron spoke. "It is also found in the resolute heart, the gizzard that can withstand the temptations of false dreams, the mind that has the imagination to comprehend another's pain

The time has come, The claws are passed. An old owl rests, A die's been cast. It is a war for heart, Gizzard and mind. The weapons they wield, More deadly than mine. A blade draws blood, a fire burns. But with the flecks, a mind unlearns. A soul unhinges, And then a gizzard quakes and cringes. Senses dull, Reason scatters. The heart grows numb, An owl shatters. But these six owls are strong and bold, And their story has not yet been told.

Her chest was a frail cage for the beating of her heart.

He played for over an hour, and I felt a peace steal over my soul, and yes, I felt the bruises in my heart. But to be bruised is to be human, to be coursing with blood. For bruises are caused by blood spilled under the skin. They are the tears that bleed inside.

To belong did not mean ownership. You were not someone's property. The "be" syllable was about existence: "to be" yourself and "to be" in a special place that no one else could occupy within your family except you. The "long" part was about the heart, a place in the heart where a family met and lived together. They didn't just put up with each other. They longed for each other. To belong was not a state of mind but a state of heart.

And all the owls of the great tree that night believed, as well. They believed that there were many kinds of truths, those of science that could be proven through the brain, and those of legends that could come true in the hearts and gizzards of all owls if they only believed.

Come alive, dead heart, and sing.

But the trouble with falling in love was that it was involuntary, no matter how well you knew it was a bad idea, if it was going to happen, it happened, and you couldn't prevent it, however much you wanted to.

As always after saying goodbye to one one of my boys, I feel a touch of nostalgia for everything that's over. I suppose it shall always be so. But I also know now that it's okay to feel it, to allow my heart its fullness for whats gone as well as its gratitude for all that is good.