Heart Quotes
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Some people are foolish enough to imagine that wealth and power and fame satisfy our hearts: but they never do, unless they are used to create and distribute happiness in the world.
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In the evening, when everything is tired and quiet, I sit with Walt Whitman by the rose beds and listen to what that lonely and beautiful spirit has to tell me of night, sleep, death, and the stars. This dusky, silent hour is his; and this is the time when I can best hear the beatings of that most tender and generous heart.
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I have no wife whom I love so well that I would not put a javelin through her heart, and I would do it with clean hands.
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There's a part of me that will always believe that Angel is Buffy's true love. That there will be a piece of her heart that will always be with him for the rest of her life.
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Your heart can break at any age.
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The mind can forget what the body, defined by each breath, subject to the heart beating, does not.
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Then when dusk began to settle he would retrace his steps, back to his own world. And on the way home, a loneliness would always claim his heart. He could never quite get a grip on what it was. It just seemed that whatever lay waiting "out there" was all too vast, too overwhelming for him to possibly ever make a dent in.
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The heart is like any other organ, you can weigh it on a scale.
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We must love prayer. It widens the heart to the point of making it capable of containing the gift that God makes of himself. Ask and seek, and your heart will be widened to welcome him and to keep him within itself.
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All that produces longing in the heart deprives it of its freedom.
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I love everybody. My heart's open to everybody.
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I understood that as much as I had resisted the outside, as much as I had constricted my life, as much as I had closed and narrowed the channels into me, there were still many takers for the quiet heart.
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Can we find nothing good to say about TV? Well, yes, it brings scattered solitaries into a sort of communion. TV allows your isolated American to think that he participates in the life of the entire country. It does not actually place him in a community, but his heart is warmed with the suggestion (on the whole false) that there is a community somewhere in the vicinity and that his atomized consciousness will be drawn back toward the whole.
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I'll never harden my heart but I've toughened the muscles around it.
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None of us needs instruction in how to recognize what your heart is saying. We do need guidance, however, on how to have the courage to follow those feelings, since they will force us to change our lives in any case. But consider the consequences of not listening to the heart's guidance: depression, confusion, and the wretched feeling that we are not on our life's true path, but viewing it from a distance.
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With good will for the entire cosmos, cultivate a limitless heart: above, below, and all around, unobstructed, without hostility or hate.
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And there is even a happiness That makes the heart afraid.
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..."Are you okay?" he says, still looking at me, and I feel my smile slip, fade, and the silence that falls over us then is so total I can’t hear anything, not the rush-hiss of my heart pounding in my chest, not the sounds all around us; insects, wind, and the distant clatter of others’ lives in houses built close but not too close because when we look out our windows we all like to pretend that everything we see is ours. But Ryan is not mine.
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In high school I dated a white woman. She would come to visit me on the rez. And her dad, who was very racist, didn't like that at all. And he told her one time, 'You shouldn't go on the rez if you're white because Indians have a lot of anger in their heart.'
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The truth was, it was myself I couldn't trust, my eyes from betraying my heart.
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America's greatness is not found in the size of its government. America's greatness resides in the hearts and the minds of the people.
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I stay close to my roots and my family. I never want to forget any part of it. I'm still just a hillbilly at heart, thus a Backwoods Barbie.
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But what do we know of the heart nearest to our own? What do we know of our own heart?
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The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.
