Heart Quotes - Page 2

So I would choose to be with you,
That's if the choice were mine to make,
But you can make decisions too,
And you can have this heart to break

Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.

Ah, Nothing is too late, till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.

The heart is capable of sacrifice. So is the vagina. The heart is able to forgive and repair. It can change it's shape to let us in. It can expand to let us out. So can the vagina. It can ache for us and stretch for us, die for us and bleed and bleed us into this difficult, wondrous world. So can the vagina. I was there in the room. I remeber.

Fall in love.. that is fine, but just make sure you fall deep enough to stay there forever.

The light of compassion opens the petals of the heart. When the petals of the heart unfold fragrance spreads across the valley.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

You want to tell a story? Grow a heart. Grow two. Now, with the second heart, smash the first one into bits.

You can always tell the heart of man by what he do, and by what he don't do...

Anyway, the trick is simply this: No matter what happens, keep your heart open. Wide open. The heart is made of love, and love is indestructible, and only the arrogance of ego would presume that it requires protection. To open your heart is to reduce your ego, and this is the only magic that is ever required to experience the naked truth.

Good and bad, right and wrong, truth and deception, it all depends on your state of mind.

Right now, just speak gently your words of wisdom to the youngsters.
Sooner or later, those words will arrive at the right place in their hearts.

To have been where you have been
And to still have joy,
Dazzling in your heart,
Now there’s a thing to make the whole world smile.

Speak to the breeze cautiously during those lonely summer nights.

And me, standing under the splintered night,
catching fractured glimpses into the black behind the black,
hearing the prayers of stars, the angry whispers of the dark summer night.

Its voice cracks,
on your name.

My eyes close,
on your name.

The stars, like the hollow eyes of a god forgotten, marry the sadness of the exhausted hour and inspire a little chaos, a little gentleness, to those below.

I look up at the sky and see everything I’ve ever lost,
waiting for me.

She has man's brain-a brain that a man should have were he much gifted-and woman's heart. The good God fashioned her for a purpose, believe me when He made that so good combination.

I realized that the good stories were affecting the organs of my body in various ways, and the really good ones were stimulating more than one organ. An effective story grabs your gut, tightens your throat, makes your heart race and your lungs pump, brings tears to your eyes or an explosion of laughter to your lips.

If you focus on the humanity of your stories, your characters, then the horror will be stronger, scarier. Without the humanity, the horror becomes nothing more than a tawdry parlor trick. All flash and no magic, and worst of all, no heart.

But in the wake of 'Bullet,' all the guys wanted to know was, 'How's it doing? How's it selling?' How to tell them I didn't give a flying fuck how it was doing in the marketplace, that what I cared about was how it was doing in the reader's heart?