Quotes About Heart

I look on the hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the imagination of it was conceived, and long for the moment when these hands will meet my eyes, when that imagination will haunt my thoughts no more.

And to my young heart the idea of death came for the first time blended with that of joy.

se desvanecía la belleza de mi sueño y el corazón se me llenaba de horror y disgusto.

Não pertenço à civilização do Livro e do Ódio. É dentro do coração que os meus guardarão minha memória, sem necessidade de grafia alguma. É dentro da cabeça. Em seu coração e em sua cabeça.

You are not lonely because you are alone. Many are lonely amid their families and friends, or even with their beloved. Loneliness is a state in which one's heart is not fulfilled. Even when they live alone, those who somehow contribute to others harbor no loneliness in their hearts. If you don't want to be lonesome, be of service to others—whatever that service might be.

The heart that loves the wicked ego creates the hated enemy.

I know your heart and you, mine.

I know your heart, and you mine, right Naruto?

But often, in the world's most crowded streets, But often, in the din of strife, There rises an unspeakable desire After the knowledge of our buried life; A thirst to spend our fire and restless force In tracking out our true, original course; A longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats So wild, so deep in us—to know Whence our lives come and where they go.

Alas, is even Love too weak to unlock the heart and let it speak? Are even lovers powerless to reveal To one another what indeed they feel?

The fear of God reigning in the heart is the beauty of the soul.

A modest dress is a very good thing, if it be the genuine indication of a humble heart, and is to instruct; but it is a bad thing if it be the hypocritical disguise of a proud ambitious heart, and is to deceive. Let men be really as good as they seem to be, but not seem to be better than really they are.

Teacher, tender comrade, wife, A fellow farer true through life, Heart whole and soul free, The August father gave to me.

What gifts they all are if our hearts are inclined in the right way and our vision to the right angle - seeing animals as they are apart from our designs upon them, as fellow creatures on their own terms, some glorious and mighty like the elephant, some fearful and lethal like the tiger, some joyful and gentle like the dolphin, some lowly and unprepossessing like the pig, but not a one of them, however removed from our exalted world, hidden from its Maker's sight.

You can never trust the heart of another?

It's down in your own heart. Religion is in your thoughts, and in the way you act from day to day, in the way you treat other people. It's honesty, and unselfishness, and kindness. Especially kindness.

She did bring home books from the library, in armloads, replenishing them every two or three days. She read avidly, indiscriminately, using them as an antidote for the pain in her heart. But they didn't help much. There was no one to talk them over with.

I think, consciously or not, what we readers do each time we open a book is to set off a search for authenticity. We want to get closer to the heart of things, and sometimes even a few good sentences contained in an otherwise unexceptional book can crystallize vague feelings, fleeting physical sensations, or, sometimes, profound epiphanies. pg. xvi

There was a hollow sound in Robert's ear, a feeling of falling, of many things converging to a point as he listened to the following words and low drum of the radio and the sound of his own heart echoing through the halls of his body. He would later say that he felt like he was floating up to the ceiling, looking down on the room for a moment.

Mon coeur est un palais flétri par la cohue...

Why yes, I can, said Midas Mulligan, when he was asked whether he could name a person more evil than the man with a heart closed to pity. The man who uses another's pity for him as a weapon.

Now he was contemplating, impersonally and for the first time, the real heart of terror: being delivered to destruction with one's hands tied behind one's back.

They say the heart of the earth is made of fire. It is held imprisoned and silent. But at times it breaks through the clay, the iron, the granite, and shoots out to freedom. Then it becomes a thing like this.

Fiction is an antidote, a reminder of the power of individual choice. Every novel has at its core a choice by at least one of its protagonists, reminding the reader that she can choose to be her own person, to go against what her parents or society or the state tell her to do and follow the faint but essential beat of her own heart.