Quotes About Heart

Places do not lose their identity, however far one travels. It is the heart that begins to erode over time. The face in the hotel mirror seems blurred some mornings, as if by too many casual looks. By ten the sheets will be laundered, the carpet swept. The names on the hotel registers change as we pass. We leave no trace as we pass on. Ghostlike, we cast no shadow.

All those moments, those memories. Everything that we are, compressed in just two or three kilos of paper — the weight of a human heart.

Felicità. Semplice come un bicchiere di cioccolata o tortuosa come il cuore. Amara. Dolce. Viva.

You may be a foreigner, but you have the heart of a Frenchman.

Io cucino quando sono irrequieta; mi piacciono le ricette semplici, la preparazione degli ingredienti, il sapere che, se seguo le regole, il piatto non deluderà mai. Se solo la gente fosse così. Se solo il cuore fosse così semplice.

Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive p184

After all, words are what remain when all the deeds have been done. Words can shatter faith; start a war; change the course of history. A story can make your heart beat faster; topple walls; scale mountains - hey, a story can even raise the dead.

nasceu-me o amor sem que eu reparasse nele.

Still, the longer I was around her, the more I could see the colors of her mind and the recesses of her heart. There was a beast in there. But there was also a girl who was afraid of being a beast, and who wondered if other people had beasts in their hearts too. There was strength, and there was also just the determination to look strong. She guarded herself like a secret.

There was no twinkle in his eyes. Maybe I just love some of you. Maybe not enough. Tiger Lily blinked at him, and she didn't understand how anyone could only love a part. Her greedy heart didn't work that way.

If there was a true moment that Tiger Lily fell so in love with Peter she could never turn back, it was that night, when he shivered and walked and told her he was warm, and told her he loved her so much. She was fierce, to be sure, but she had a girl's heart, after all. As she walked home that night, she was shaking from the largeness of it.

A faerie heart is different from a human heart. Human hearts are elastic. They have room for all sorts of passions, and they can break and heal and love again and again. Faerie hearts are evolutionarily less sophisticated. They are small and hard, like tiny grains of sand. Our hearts are too small to love more than one person in a lifetime.

true love is felonious… You take someone's breath away… You rob them of the ability to utter a single word… You steal a heart.

After a certain point, a heart with so many stress fractures can never be anything but broken.

Sometimes I think the human heart is just a simple shelf. There is only so much you can pile onto it before something falls off an edge and you are left to pick up the pieces.

She felt a cage coming down around her; too late she realized that he had her trapped by the heart. And like any unwilling animal that was well and truly caught, she could escape only by leaving a piece of herself behind.

I imagine the touch of someone who loves you so much, he cannot bear to watch you sleep; and so you wake up with his hand on your heart.

Things break all the time. Glass and dishes and fingernails. Cars and contracts and potato chips. You can break a record, a horse, a dollar. You can break the ice. There are coffee breaks and lunch breaks and prison breaks. Day breaks, waves break, voices break. Chains can be broken. So can silence, and fever... promises break. Hearts break.

I had the heart of the relationship, and no body to grow it in... It broke.

Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate. Its breath is full of lies; it smells of spite.

I wondered why the head could move so swiftly while the heart dragged its feet.

Home is not a place, but rather, the people you love

What he did was wrong. He doesn't deserve your love. But he does deserve your forgiveness, because otherwise he will grow like a weed in your heart until it's choked and overrun. The only person who suffers, when you squirrel away all that hate, is you.

Love has nothing to do with what you're looking at and everything to do with who's looking.