Quotes About Heart

God's Word is especially suited to directing those who want to focus primarily on the nature and direction of their own hearts.

Who we are is not a question we can ask without seeking to understand the context in which we live. Biblical counselors seek to understand the influences that shape the responses of the human heart.

A quality man examines his heart, exposing the fears that generate the lies that lead to sin.

Most counseling cases today involve good desires that have become overgrown. In these cases most relevant passages of Scripture may not be those that rebut particular manifestations of sin, but those that remind us to love God with all our hearts.

When we wait on the Lord, we invite Him to root out the dissonance in a divided heart and bring to us the integrity of full surrender to His will. In that we experience His strength.

God will call; they won't answer. Stubbornness of the heart is a terminal sickness. There is no solution for that condition apart from repentance and God's work of grace to break the heart.

The greatest failure in human existence is the failure of Christ-followers to "love one another earnestly from a pure heart"5 and to heed the words of Christ: "By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."6

Does God love us even when our hearts are far from Him? The answer: Yes, He does!

Prayer is the raising of one's mind and heart to God or the requesting of good things from God.2

Just because you've discerned doesn't mean that you shouldn't look to reality for some real-life confirmation. As one Jesuit said, "Trust your heart but use your head, too.

My fate is my own; my heart remains free Not magic but wisdum reveals destiny.

my fate is my own, my heart remains free, not magic but wisdom reveals destiny

He hears men's voices, shouts, so evil and grim he hears their names: Tin Tin, Fun Boy, T-Bird, Top Dollar and Tom Tom. The sounds sink into his heart like ice and brun in his head with a heat so intense it glows white.

Bigs jabbed a finger into my chest. Ping. It felt like an aluminum baseball bat. "I paid you," he said. "Now I want my Velma back." "Easy on the chest, will you, Bigs? I store my heart in there.

The accumulation of grief over one lifetime is more then one heart can bear."Robert explained."Only the heartless could withstand more.Or the very young,those too naive to truly understand loss.

Traveling— it had captured my heart, and now my heart was calling me home.

The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.

In the storm, like a prophet o'ermaddened, Thou singest and tossest thy branches; Thy heart with the terror is gladdened, Thou forebodest the dread avalanches.... In the calm thou o'erstretchest the valleys With thine arms, as if blessings imploring, Like an old king led forth from his palace, When his people to battle are pouring...

waterfront gospel of Father John M. Corridan preached with all the courage of his soldierly progenitor, Francis Xavier, goes right to the heart of our waterfront problem.

We had fed the heart on fantasies. / The heart's grown brutal from the fare." From "Meditations in Time of Civil War," 1923.W.B.Yeats

and among the many, many things I've had time to think about (such as what's worth living for? what's worth dying for? what's completely foolish to pursue?) I've been thinking a lot about what Hobie said: about those images that strike the heart and set it blooming like a flower, images that open up some much, much larger beauty that you can spend your whole life looking for and never find.

it was years since I'd roused myself from my stupor of misery and self-absorption; between anomie and trance, inertia and parenthesis and gnawing my own heart out, there were a lot of small, easy, everyday kindnesses I'd missed out on; and even the word kindness was like rising from unconsciousness into some hospital awareness of voices, and people, from a stream of digitized machines.

It is not flesh and blood, but heart which makes us fathers and sons. —SCHILLER

But my loyalties were elsewhere. And the flavor of Pippa's kiss—bittersweet and strange—stayed with me all the way back uptown, swaying and sleepy as I sailed home on the bus, melting with sorrow and loveliness, a starry ache that lifted me up above the windswept city like a kite: my head in the rainclouds, my heart in the sky.