Quotes About Heart

Oh, but is it possible', thinks the misgiving heart, `that so holy a God should accept such a prayer?' Yes, he will accept that which is his own, and pardon that which is ours.

Where Christ's laws are written in the heart, there all other good laws are best obeyed. None despise man's law but those that despise Christ's first.

You're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.

Fairy tales have rules. You are a princess or you aren't. You are pure at heart or you aren't. If you are pure at heart, or lucky, you might catch a break.

He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There's a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place – well then, game over.

we are at the crossroads, my little outlaw, and this is the map of my heart, the landscape after cruelty

We can do anything. It's not because our hearts are large, they're not, it's what we struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring your friends. It's a potluck, I'm making pork chops, I'm making those long noodles you love so much.

You'd break your heart to make it bigger, so why not crack your skull when the mind swells.

I'll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger. Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there? The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube?

I looked at all the trees and didn't know what to do. A box made out of leaves. What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless. Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else. I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon. From the landscape: a sense of scale. From the dead: a sense of scale. I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority. Everything casts a shadow. Your body told me in a dream it's never been afraid of anything.

Sometimes, at night, in bed, before I fall asleep, I think about a poem I might write, someday, about my heart, says the heart.

He was not dead yet, not exactly— parts of him were dead already, certainly other parts were still only waiting for something to happen, something grand, but it isn't always about me, he keeps saying, though he's talking about the only heart he knows— He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There's a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place— well then, game over.

The dawn was breaking the bones of your heart like twigs.

I'll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger. Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there?

would you like to meet him there, in Heaven? Imagine a room, a sudden glow. Here is my hand, my heart, my throat, my wrist. Here are the illuminated cities at the center of me, and here is the center of me, which is a lake, which is a well that we can drink from, but I can't go through with it. I just don't want to die anymore.

The heart is monologuing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. Can the heart escape? Does love even care?

Sometimes, at night, in bed, before I fall asleep, I think about a poem I might write, someday, about my heart, says the heart. — Richard Siken, from "The Language of the Birds," War of the Foxes (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)

That man never grows old who keeps a child in his heart.

The head has no answers, and the heart has no questions, Jack would say." Quoting his teacher and good friend Jack Kakakaway

difficulty is not lack of knowledge, but moral weakness. If you love Jesus with a pure heart, you will know where He feeds His flock as surely as every man who loves drugs or alcohol knows where to find them (Matthew 5:8). "Who is the man that fears the Lord? Him shall He teach in the way He chooses" (Psalm 25:12).

There's always a good reason to rejoice. There is a God in Heaven and in the heart. I had a piece of bread this morning. It was so good! Look now, the sun is shining! And so many here love me! Every day you do not rejoice is a day lost, my son!

Not all souls are the same. Some rivers flow quietly between their banks; others overflow. There exist choice souls, whose love of God cannot be confi ned to the narrow limits of what is considered a normal faith. Their cup runs over. Their love of God burns. Solomon's Song answers to the desires of such hearts.

He let the fingers of one hand splay out across the pocket of his shirt to show what a simple, physical thing the heart was; then he made the same hand into a fist.

I look him in the eye. "I will always love you.