Claire Keegan Quotes
My heart feels not so much in my chest as in my hands. I am carrying it along swiftly, as though I have become the messenger for what is going on inside me.
Quotes to Explore
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At the cross God wrapped his heart in flesh and blood and let it be nailed to the cross for our redemption.
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I think shortly after I got signed, it just started to dawn on me that I had something to say and that Yahweh put something in my heart to share with the world.
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Books are the heart of any home, and I spend hours going through books for design inspiration.
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When fate hands you a lemon, make lemonade.
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In art, the hand can never execute anything higher than the heart can imagine.
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Storytelling is as old as speech. It existed before humans first began to carve shapes in stones and press their hands upon the rocky walls of caves.
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I do not shake hands from a sanitary standpoint.
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I do think faith is important when it introduces positivity into your life and you see it with love in your heart because there's so many people who unfortunately use faith for detrimental things or to justify detrimental actions.
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What's near and dear to my heart is cooperative conservation.
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On a film set, for me, there's so much more time to process what's going on than there is on a television set. There's more wiggle room to try things and fail and try again and get to the heart of what's going on in the scene, which is really fun for me. It's what I like to do.
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My parents wanted me to be a doctor. So I took up science, but then realised that my heart was not in it at all. The thought of treating ailing people was very depressing.
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The way most people fail is in not keeping up the heart.
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When I found I had given birth to a human wreckage, to a child that was an imbecile, my heart was broken.
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A magnetic personality doesn't necessarily indicate a good heart.
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Cupid draw back your bow and let your arrow go straight to my lover's heart for me, for me...Cupid please hear my cry and let your arrow fly straight to my lover's heart for me.
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I want you to dive consciously into the Self, i.e., into the Heart.
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There is an indolence in griefWhich will not even seek relief. What is the toil, or care, or pain,The human heart cannot sustain?Enough if struggling can createA change or colour in our fate;But where's the spirit that can copeWith listless suffering, when hope,The last of misery's allies,Sickens of its sweet self, and dies.
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I walk in a cloud of wonder; I am glad.I mingle among the crowds; my heart is pounding;You do not guess the adventure I have had! . . .Yet you, too, all have had your dark adventures,Your sudden adventures, or strange, or sweet . . .My peril goes out from me, is blown among you.We loiter, dreaming together, along the street.
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Sometimes, especially in the last six months, I still feel like going to the window and singing out all my troubles.
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Let the GRATEFUL HEART sweep through the day that it may recognize in every hour some sweet blessing.
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If his Majesty is resolved to have my head, he may make a whistle of my arse if he pleases.
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Writing was always an aspiration, but I'd kept it a secret even from myself.
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I've always wanted my characters to have more dimension and realistic cores than the ingenue material often provides. It's been a challenge.
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My heart feels not so much in my chest as in my hands. I am carrying it along swiftly, as though I have become the messenger for what is going on inside me.
