Quotes About Heart

He did not accept the good news of God; he strained it to his heart, and was jubilant over it.

It is the soul that makes the body. When we are sons of God in heart and soul, then shall we be the sons of God in body too: we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.

What heart in the kingdom of heaven would ever dream of constructing a metaphysical system of what we owed to God and why we owed it?

When one says to the great Thinker:-- Here is one of thy thoughts: I am thinking it now! that is a prayer--a word to the big heart from one of its own little hearts.-- Look, there is another!

We all, with clear vision of the Lord, mirroring in our hearts his glory, even as a mirror would take into itself his face, are thereby changed into his likeness, his glory working our glory, by the present power, in our inmost being, of the Lord, the spirit.' Our mirroring of Christ, then, is one with the presence of his spirit in us.

Thou wouldst not have thy man crushed back to clay; It must be, God, thou hast strength to give To him that fain would do what thou dost say; Else how shall any soul repentant live, Old griefs and new fears hurrying on dismay? Let pain be what thou wilt, kind and degree, Only in pain calm thou my heart with thee.

The demon has a name that is known among men, though it frightens few and draws many, alas! His name is Self, and he is the shadow of your own self. First he made you love him, which was evil, and now he has made you hate him, which is evil also. But if he be cast out and never more enter into your heart, but remain as a servant in your hall, then you will recover from this sickness, and be whole and sound, and will find the varlet serviceable.

His heart, he said, had been the guide of his intellect. That is just what I would fain believe. But, O Wynnie! the pity of it if that story should not be true, after all! Ah, my love! I cried, that very word makes me surer than ever that it cannot but be true. Let us go on putting it to the hardest test; let us try it until it crumbles in our hands,—try it by the touchstone of action founded on its requirements.

She alone is free who would make free; she loves not freedom who would enslave: she is herself a slave. Every life, every will, every heart that came within your ken, you have sought to subdue: you are the slave of every slave you have made--such a slave that you do not know it!--See your own self!

Humble mistake will not hurt us: the truth is there, and the Lord will see that we come to know it. We may think we know it when we have scarce a glimpse of it; but the error of a true heart will not be allowed to ruin it. Certainly that heart would not have mistaken the truth except for the untruth yet remaining in it; but he who casts out devils will cast out that devil.

the heart which haunts the treasure-house where the moth and rust corrupt, will be exposed to the same ravages as the treasure, will itself be rusted and moth-eaten.

revenge is," as Lord Bacon says, "a kind of wild justice," and is easily satisfied. The hearts desire upon such a one's enemies is best met and granted when the hate is changed into love and compassion.

It is not alone the first beginnings of religion that are full of fear. So long as love is imperfect, there is room for torment. That lore only which fills the heart—and nothing but love can fill any heart—is able to cast out fear, leaving no room for its presence. What we find in the beginnings of religion, will hold in varying degree, until the religion, that is the love, be perfected.

The things of thy world so crowd our hearts, that there is no room in them for the things of thy heart, which would raise ours above all fear, and make us merry children in our Father's house!

He gives us the will wherewith to will, and the power to use it, and the help needed to supplement the power, whatever in any case the need may be; but we ourselves must will the truth, and for that the Lord is waiting, for the victory of God his father in the heart of his child.

If any one object that I have here imagined too much, I would remark, first, that the records in the Gospel are very brief and condensed; second, that the germs of a true intelligence must lie in this small seed, and our hearts are the soil in which it must unfold itself; third, that we are bound to understand the story, and that the foregoing are the suppositions on which I am able to understand it in a manner worthy of what I have learned concerning Him.

I can no more than lift my weary eyes; Therefore I lift my weary eyes—no more. But my eyes pull my heart, and that, before 'Tis well awake, knocks where the conscience lies; Conscience runs quick to the spirit's hidden door: Straightway, from every sky-ward window, cries Up to the Father's listening ears arise.

they say that time heals all things, they say you can always forget; but the smiles and the tears across the years they twist my heart strings yet!

it was only a hopeless fantasy, it passed like an april day, but a look and a word and the dreams they stirred they have stolen my heart away.

They could not alter your feelings: for that matter you could not alter them yourself, even if you wanted to. They could lay bare the utmost detail of everything that you had done or said or thought; but the inner heart, whose workings were mysterious even to yourself, remained impregnable.

It was only an 'opeless fancy, It passed lika an Ipril dye, But a look an' a word an' the dreams they stirred They 'ave stolen my 'eart awye!' They sye that time 'eals all things, They sye you can always forget; But the smiles an' the tears across the years They twist my 'eart-strings yet!

Eles não podem alterar os sentimentos... aliás, nem nós próprios poderíamos alterá-los, mesmo que quiséssemos. Podiam pôr a nu, com todo o pormenor, quanto houvéramos feito, dito ou pensado; mas o mais fundo do coração, cujo funcionamento até para nós constitui um mistério, há-de ser sempre inexpugnável.

But the inner heart, whose workings were mysterious even to yourself, remained impregnable.

Curiously, the chiming of the hour seemed to have put new heart into him. He was a lonely ghost uttering a truth that nobody would ever hear.