Quotes About Heartache

Of course you can't know. But you play the odds. You save who you can and you mourn those you can't. When you follow this calling, your heart gets ripped apart every day. You make the world better in increments, not grand designs. You make choices. Do you understand?

FJ moved away then. Rocco and Bubba followed. Myron watched them disappear, his heart flapping in his chest like a caged condor.

It's the cruelest thing in the world. Death is better. When you're dead, the pain stops. But hope keeps raising you way up high, only to drop you to the hard ground. Hope cradles your heart in its hand and then it crushes it with a fist. Over and over. It never stops. That's what hope does.

There are some people who just shouldn't be allowed to fool around with love.

Atticus--- ...said Jem bleakly. How could they do it, how could they? I don't know, but they did it. They've done it before & they did it tonight & they'll do it again & when they do it--- seems that only children weep.

The one human being she had ever fully and wholeheartedly trusted had failed her; the only man she had ever known to whom she could point and say with expert knowledge, "He is a gentleman, in his heart he is a gentleman," had betrayed her, publicly, grossly, and shamelessly.

Atticus—" said Jem bleakly. He turned in the doorway. "What, son?" "How could they do it, how could they?" "I don't know, but they did it. They've done it before and they did it tonight and they'll do it again and when they do it—seems that only children weep. Good night." But

How could they do it ? How could they ? I dont know how, but they did it. They've done it before and they did it tonight and they'll do it again and when they do it - seems that only children weep. Good night.

For a long time, she held a special place in my heart. I kept this special place just for her, like a Reserved sign on a quiet corner table in a restaurant. Despite the fact that I was sure I'd never see her again.

I'm a coward when it comes to matters of the heart. That is my fatal flaw.

Sometimes, however, this sense of isolation, like acid spilling out of a bottle, can unconsciously eat away at a person's heart and dissolve it.

Everytime you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That's it. That's my heart.

Ever since that happened to me, I haven't been able to give myself to anyone in this world.

En ese momento, por fin lo captó. En lo más profundo de sí mismo,Tsukuru Tazaki lo comprendió: los corazones humanos no se unen sólo mediante la armonía. Se unen, mas bien, herida con herida. Dolor con dolor. Fragilidad con fragilidad. No existe silencio sin un grito desgarrador, no existe perdón sin que se derrame sangre, no existe aceptación sin pasar por un intenso sentimiento de pérdida. Ésos son los cimientos de la verdadera armonía.

Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That's it. That's my heart.

There wasn't any anger involved (I think). I mean, what was I supposed to be angry with? What I was feeling was a fundamental numbness. The numbness your heart automatically activates to lessen the awful pain when you want somebody desperately and they reject you. A kind of emotional morphine.

It was hard to accept that she had almost no feelings, maybe none at all, for me as a man. This hurt so bad at times it felt like someone was gouging out my guts with a knife. Still, the time I spent with her was more precious than anything.

Les souvenirs, c'est quelque chose qui vous réchauffe de l'intérieur. Et qui vous déchire violemment le cÅ"ur en même temps.

The past became a long, razor-sharp skewer that stabbed right through his heart.

Too many memories of her were crammed inside of me, and as soon as one of them found the slightest opening, the rest would force their way out in an endless stream, an unstoppable flood.

Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart

It was a small soft hand. I thought my heart might break in two.

Everything seems pointless since you left

En este mundo existe un tipo de tristeza que no te permite verter lágrimas. Es una de esas cosas que no puedes explicar a nadie y, aunque pudieras, nadie te comprendería. Y esa tristeza, sin cambiar de forma, va acumulándose en silencio en tu corazón como la nieve durante una noche sin viento.