Quotes About Heart

I loved him. I hadn't wanted to, but I did, and it was too late to change because once my heart went somewhere, I couldn't pull it back. It's a glitch in my wiring.

Are you ruled by a heart that foolishly imprinted on the wrong man? Like most humans, are you incapable of change? Change requires an admission of error. Your race devotes itself to justifying its errors, not correcting them." "My heart hasn't imprinted on anyone." "Good. Then it may yet be mine.

The most confused we ever get is when we're trying to convince our heads of something our heart knows is a lie.

The heart has its own mind, measures its own time, and if it consults with the brain, doesn't always heed the advice. My brain was screaming—stop hurting already. To a deaf audience.

I feel stronger in the chapel. Here, the divine defies the devil at our door. Faith is an unquenchable flame in my heart.

Nem olyan könny? megkülönböztetni egymástól a jó- és a rosszfiúkat, mint korábban hittem. Nem elég ránézni valakire ahhoz, hogy ítélkezzünk. A szívünkkel kell látnunk.

Och lass, doona you know? Your heart is my home..

Gwen started to speak, but he laid a finger to her lips. "Please, lass, just kiss me. No more words. There have been enough of them between us." He paused before adding quietly, "If you have aught to say to me, let your heart speak now.

She is a fool in too many ways to number: in affairs of infidelity, if a man strays, it is not the fault of the woman with whom he lays. A worthy heart eschews temptation, despite the magnitude. Clearly my heart is not worthy.

heart had reasons of which reason knew nothing, the only quote of Pascal's

Some things the gut distills to their essence no matter how hard you try to factor in compassion and mercy and understanding. One of them killed the other. And there is violence in my heart.

Still, I seem to be stuck on a runaway train, barreling down the track despite all warnings that I'm about to jump it and either crash into something horrific or end up in a no-man's-land without a compass. My damned Highlander heart. I'm an Unseelie prince with Keltar chivalry in my blood that will never cease governing my actions so long as my heart beats. No woman, no person should ever have to live without choices, without control over their life.

He had the wild, true heart of a child, in the body of a jaded man. Intensely guarded, unless he chose to give it, yet once given, it was given completely. Without thought to his own survival.

When a heart realized it loved was also, paradoxically, when a heart learned to fear most deeply.

You love her," he said roughly. "That means you know her. When you love somebody you see inside them. Use your heart.

Did we call the things of our heart our own, whether they were or not?

The most confused we ever get is when we're trying to convince our heads of something our heart knows is a lie.

Love, Caroline decided as she looked at him, was a strange thing. Like a persistent weed in a sea of pavement, it could survive in the nooks and crannies of the heart, and just when you thought it had been completely ripped out by the roots, it would shoot right back up.

Anger needed an anchor, a plug, a wall. (I am angry because of ____.) Otherwise you had a beam of red feeling searching vainly through the universe. You had a heart that shot red light into space.

Hopes were wallflowers. Hopes hugged the perimeter of a dance floor in your brain, tugging at their party lace, all perfume and hems and doomed expectation. They fanned their dance cards, these guests that pressed against the walls of your heart.

Every woman should have a daughter to tell her stories to. Otherwise, the lessons learned are as useless as spare buttons from a discarded shirt. And all that is left is a fading name and the shape of a nose or the color of hair. The men who write the history books will tell you the stories of battles and conquests. But the women will tell you the stories of people's hearts.

Death and loss, they plague you. So do memories. Like the Mississippi's incessant slap against the levees, they creep up with deceptive sweetness before grabbing your heart and pulling it under.

But there is room now in my heart for more memories, carved by a letting go that I could find only by coming home to a place I'd never been.

Because a garden is the heart of a house, where love is the seed and the dark earth like a mother who nurtures her saplings until they bloom, and then waits for them with furrowed arms to return. It is the story told again and again from my garden: from dust we begin, and to dust we will return again.