She Has Your Heart Quotes & Sayings

We're a couple of travelers!" I called up to her. "I'm Briony, and this is Ella!"

"Grammy said I ought not to talk to strangers!" she called back.

"We're not strangers!" Ella shouted. "We're with the union!"

I cut her a look and mouthed, Union?, which was silly with this other girl out of earshot. Ella shrugged.

There was a pause before the girl called somewhat timidly given we were shouting, "What union?"

"We represent the Coalition of Self-Rescuing Princesses," Ella replied.

"But I'm not a princess!"

"That's fine!" I called, sighing as I prepared to lay on the charm with this ridiculous foible. "We of the Coalition of Self-Rescuing Princesses do not discriminate based on social caste, for we believe that every damsel in distress has the heart of a princess!"

"Are you feeling subjugated?" Ella continued. "Yearning to be free, wondering when your prince will come and what's taking him so damn long? — K.B. Shinn

I love you, your courage and your stubbornness and your fire and your utter ruthlessness. How much do I love you? So much that a moment ago I would have outraged the hospitality of the house which has sheltered me and my family, forgotten the best wife any man ever had - enough to take you here in the mud like a - "
She struggled with a chaos of thoughts and there was a cold pain in her heart as if an icicle had pierced it. She said haltingly: "If you felt like that - and didn't take me - then you don't love me."
"I can never make you understand. — Margaret Mitchell

Every bed she leaves, without caring, fills her heart with peace and happiness. She has made her 'escape' again. That's why she can't 'put herself in another's place,' she herself is the only 'position'; so she resents it when you reproach her with what she had done. She knows she is innocent because she can't do anything in relation to anyone but herself. You almost caught hold of her, but she put you cleverly away by making you the Madonna. What was your patience and terror worth all these years if you couldn't keep them for her sake? — Djuna Barnes

Sella smiled sadly as she laid the scarf on her knees, her fingers tracing over the delicate gold-thread pattern (...) The moon, the sing of calm reflection, from where reason and balance are derived (...) The sun, source of passion, love, anger (...) We exist here, between the two. Grown from the earth, warmed by the sun, cooled by the moonlight night. Your brother's heart had been pulled too far into the sun, fired with anger and regret. Now he has cooled and he looks to the moon for guidance. — Anthony Ryan

She was ten years old, after all. Alone and helpless and afraid. But here is truth, gentlefriends, no matter the number of suns in your sky. At the heart of it, two kinds of people live in this world or any other: those who flee and those who fight. Your kind has many terms for the latter sort. Berserker. Killer instinct. More balls than brains. And it shouldn't surprise you, knowing what little you know already, that in the face of this thug and his blade, and laden with memory of her father's execution never flinch never fear instead of wailing or breaking as another ten-year-old might have, young Mia gripped the stiletto she'd fished from the darkness, and slipped it straight up into the puppy-choker's eye. The — Jay Kristoff

If your novel seems to be dragging, one of the first places to look is at the heart of your lead character. Is he giving up too easily? Has she been taking it too long? Are there too many scenes where he's thinking and not doing? - James Scott Bell — Anonymous

HIM: I should have known better than to fall for a scientist. Your idea of a Valentine's heart probably has an aorta. HER: Is it a crime to be biologically relevant? She — Jodi Picoult

Think of each wound as you would of a child who has been hurt by a friend. As long as that child is ranting and raving, trying to get back at the friend, one wound leads to another. But when the child can experience the consoling embrace of a parent, she or he can live through the pain, return to the friend, forgive, and build up a new relationship. Be gentle with yourself, and let your heart be your loving parent as you live your wounds through. — Henri Nouwen

I didn't even think, just went with instinct. Opening my arms, I felt the tiny life placed there. Wrapping him close and tight to my chest, I felt my heart swelling with love. So small, so delicate. Using the tip of my finger, I traced his face, his little lips, his chin and cheeks, his eyes. "You're right, Tea, he is beautiful."

"He has your eyes," she whispered. "We still need to name him."

"Christian Simon Doyle. After your dad and your idiot friend."

Her voice sounded raw when she spoke again. "That's perfect."

"You're perfect. Thank you, Tea, thank you for my son, for our life, thank you for not giving up on me. — L.A. Fiore

He leaned down and cupped her face in his hand. "Every one of the men on my team has scars. And you know what those scars are?" Heaving a shaky breath, she shook her head. "They're proof of survival. They're badges of honor. They're marks of strength." Shane swallowed hard. "You don't have to show me, Crystal. But you do need to know there's nothing on your body I won't love and respect. Because it's you." The words reached into her chest and soothed her heart. — Laura Kaye

But no, I'm sorry. I can't end there. I haven't yet said everything I want to say. A little girl is at school, out in the playground with her friends, and she sees a flower and says to her friends, just thinking out loud, wondering gently to herself: Do you think flowers have feelings? And for the rest of the day her friends tease her relentlessly, with every new opportunity that arises. Do flowers have feelings, that's so stupid. Right, flowers have feelings. All day and for the rest of the week: stupid flowers have stupid feelings and that little girl feels she is never going to say anything like that ever again. She has already learned that when you open your heart or express genuine, innocent curiosity or wonder about the world, your friends will pounce on the opportunity and use it to hurt you as viciously as possible and there is nothing anyone can do to protect her. It's simple stories like that that really break my heart. — Jacob Wren

Yet you look at your child and you just know from the beginning that she's going to break your heart. You just know it. You know she's going to steal your credit card and your cell phone and lie to you and call you a bitch because she has a crush on some guy you don't like. But you love her and want for her anyway, and it's the most beautiful, selfless love; you instinctively know you'd do anything for her, regardless of what she does to you. — Kelly Cutrone

I run my hand over my eyes again and move it to my open mouth then my chin, laughing into my palm. "She has me so completely, and the only thing I can compare it to is the way you said Alyssa hit your heart. Like there's nothing too crazy, too far, too much... — Ginger Scott

No one in hundreds of years has had that kind of power -- the power to control the elements. Not since the slaughter of the 1600's ... She has saved her greatest warrior for the moment when you are most needed. It is you, Isi, not us; you are the one destined to save the planet. We boys are just window dressing while you are the last knight of the Earth, pulled from her core and given from her heart to save us all. Haven't you noticed it? The flowers turn their faces to you, as if you were the sun. The most timid and previously abused bird curls up in your arms, as if it were her most natural place. When you are sad, the sky shares your sorrow and darkens in empathy. When you are happy, the moon throws herself into eclipse and the stars themselves wink at you to celebrate your joy. You are her daughter, the daughter of Earth, and she smiles when she sees you. — Sarah Warden

You do not want the effect of your good things to be, "How wonderful for a woman!" nor would you be deterred from good things, by hearing it said, "Yes, but she ought not to have done this, because it is not suitable for a woman." But you want to do the thing that is good, whether it is "suitable for a woman" or not.

It does not make a thing good, that it is remarkable that a woman should have been able to do it. Neither does it make a thing bad, which would have been good had a man done it, that it has been done by a woman.

Oh, leave these jargons, and go your way straight to God's work, in simplicity and singleness of heart. — Florence Nightingale

isn't it time for your soul, which has been ashamed of your meat for so long, to thank your meat for finally doing something wonderful?" I thought that over. "That sounds right, too," I said. "You have to actually do it," she said. "How?" I said. "Hold your hand in front of your eye," she said, "and look at those strange and clever animals with love and gratitude, and tell them out loud: 'Thank you, Meat.'" So I did. I held my hands in front of my eyes, and I said out loud and with all my heart: 'Thank you, Meat. — Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

The Friend That You've Outgrown Here's to the friend that you've outgrown, The one whose name is left unknown. The one who wiped away your tears, And sought to hold your hand, When others turned the other way, No beginning, just an end. She's the one you turned to, The one that you called friend. She laughed with you, she cried with you, And felt it was her duty, To remind you of your worth, And all your inner beauty. When others' eyes could only dwell, Upon your exposed outer shell. They saw a fat girl steeped in braces, Not seeing you they turned their faces. But she was there to whisper, When others didn't care. She held your secrets in her heart, That friends like you could share. You never had to be alone, But now she is, 'cause you've outgrown Her for those others whose laughs you share, As you run carefree through the air. Time has eased your form and face, But she's the one who knew your grace When those who you now call your friend Saw no beginning . . . only end. C. S. Dweck — Jack Canfield

Her honor will come to no harm at my hands," Jack said.
"'Tis not her honor but her tender heart that I worry about," Alexander said.
"She's a delicate lass," Hugh added.
"Aye," said Gregor. "A Scottish rose."
"Your tender, delicate rose had me ambushed, knocked unconscious, and forced to wed," Jack ground
out. "Facts you all know, if you've spoken to Hamish."
Dougal grinned, his teeth flashing whitely. "She has the devil's own temper, our Fiona does. — Karen Hawkins

I'll try to find an herb that will help. I shall research it." Her voice held determination. He smiled. "My little healer. You try to fix everyone. Can you fix my heart?" "Has someone harmed it?" "I fear it's been irretrievably ensnared by you." Her smile widened, and she placed her small gloved hand on his forearm. "That's a perfect state for it. I shall endeavor to keep it that way." "And what of the state of your own heart?" She sobered. "I fear it is as entangled as yours. — Colleen Coble

Ah," said Jean, "but when a woman has your heart, she doesn't have poor moods. Only interesting moods ... and more interesting moods. — Scott Lynch

Did you know you always refer to Eliza and Kitty as 'the girls?' I think it's endearing, but also reveals your true feelings." Nathaniel's smile bent upward. "Eliza has captured your heart. You can't deny it." Thomas glared at his friend who only grinned in return. "You know," Nathaniel said, an impressive seriousness knitting his voice. "They don't have to leave. They could stay right here with you. What life do they have for them in Boston? They've no family, nothing to entice them away from you." "They have more than you think," Thomas shot back. "Besides, in the end, Eliza may decide she'll marry Samuel after all." "Don't fool yourself." Nathaniel leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I've seen the way Eliza looks at you, and her eyes are not those of a woman longing for home, let alone another man." Thomas exhaled, his shoulders dropping as he did. "I've told you, I will not water the garden of affection. — Amber Lynn Perry

Before you take up that fight against history, do remember that she has a track record of beating 'champions' like you. Therefore, it's best to stick with the flow, and go with what works for everyone.
But . . .
In the event you do decide to go against the convention, all you need is to get your heart straight, and your eyes fixed on the target. You might just be the underdog that will surprise history. — Ufuoma Apoki

My wife says that I can't kill you for being an asshole. She has a much kinder heart than I do. If you or any of your men come anywhere near us, I will take you apart. Slowly. — Thea Harrison

She shrugged. "I'm surprised your mother didn't inform you of my presence. Or Belle. She has spoken about you a great deal."
His eyes narrowed as his heart sank. "You've become friendly with Belle?" He saw all his hopes for a flirtation with this girl going up in smoke. — Julia Quinn

To reach your heart, as every indigenous tribe I know has told me, you must first remember your Divine Mother ... Your Mother is alive and very much conscious ... Earth is not a rock, she has a name and a personality in the cosmos. And believe me, she knows your name. — Drunvalo Melchizedek

You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on. — David Harkins

Lot's Wife

And the just man trailed God's messenger,
his huge, light shape devoured the black hill.
But uneasiness shadowed is wife and spoke to her:
'It's not too late, you can look back still

At the red towers of Sodom, the place that bore you,
the square in which you sang, the spinning-shed,
at the empty windows of that upper storey
where children blessed your happy marriage-bed.'

Her eyes that were still turning when a bolt
of pain shot through them, were instantly blind;
her body turned into transparent salt,
and her swift legs were rooted to the ground.

Who mourns one woman in a holocaust?
Surely her death has no significance?
Yet in my heart she never will be lost,
she who gave up her life to steal one glance.

1922-24 — Anna Akhmatova

saying - "

Lady Brice's next words were lost because, without any warning, Grandma flung the door open.

"You really need to ask permission first," a guard warned her in a hushed tone.

She kept walking toward me. "Well, my girl, it's time for me to head out."

"So soon?" I asked, embracing her.

"I can never stay too long. Your mother is recovering from a heart attack, and she still has the audacity to order me around. I know she's the queen," she conceded, raising her hands in the air in surrender, "but I'm her mother, and that trumps queen any day."

I laughed. "I'll remember that for down the road."

"You do that," she said, rubbing my cheek. "And if you don't mind, get yourself a husband as soon as you can. I'm not getting any younger, and I'd like to see at least one great-grandchild before I'm dead." She stared at my stomach and shook her finger. "Don't let me down."

"Ooooookay, Grandma. — Kiera Cass

FACT 211: The chronic stress of a high-pressure job has been shown to double the risk of a heart attack. Chronic stress may also result in alcoholism, hypertension, and severe depression, and can make your joints ache, your hair fall out, and even stop your period.

So that bald drunk lady at work who's always crying and giving away her tampons? Give her a break; she's under a lot of stress. — Cary McNeal

you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also" - Sirius's eyes turned to the other two - "advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight. — J.K. Rowling

Robin is not in your life, you are in her dream, you'll never get out of it. And why does Robin feel innocent? Every bed she leaves, without caring, fills her heart with peace and happiness. She has made her "escape" again. That's why she can't "put herself in another's place," she herself is the only "position"; so she resents it when you reproach her with what she had done. She knows she is innocent because she can't do anything in relation to anyone but herself. — Djuna Barnes

Don't make me out to be something worth saving. We both know I'm a waste." His voice was so quiet. "I wish I was better at telling you why you have to stay here. I wish I could put into words the part of my heart that has your name written on it. That part hurts right now. You have to be here. You love life too much. You're so important. I wish I could make you understand this." He tried to smile at her valiant efforts. "I would keep you if I could. You can sleep here, right on this couch. Beckett, I will let you hold this baby when it comes." She touched her stomach. "Does that tell you how much you mean to me? It's the only thing I can come up with." He shrugged. "Mouse would be disappointed. He'd feel like he didn't do his job if you died ... Eve loves you. Wherever she is - in this strip club - is that what you've been wishing for?" Beckett shook his head. "No, right? She loves you. You can't kill someone she loves. You just can't. — Debra Anastasia

Everyone has their limits, their breaking point. Everyone has some amount of patience. Some people have more than others.
Everyone has to come down to what the reality is. Telling someone you love them is a good and beautiful thing. But it will only take you so far. No one can see into your heart and head to know what really is there. What your truth is. They have to go by what you show them, what you share with them. The more they love you the more patience they'll have. But over time their love will shrink and wither.
Women are interesting creatures and they mirror the men they love. If your open and giving of your love, thoughts and share yourself with her, she will blossom and flourish.
However if you withhold yourself from her ... she'll mirror that and withdraw. She will reach the time when she will accept the reality. — Anonymous

I urge all parents, but especially fathers, to work at building your daughter's self-concept throughout her childhood. Tell her she is pretty every chance you get. Hug her. Compliment her admirable traits. Build her confidence by giving her your time and attention. Defend her when she is struggling. And let her know that she has a place in your heart that is reserved only for her. She will never forget it. — James C. Dobson

More panic. More emergencies and disasters. Soon, emergencies fell into a sort of natural ranking: drop-everything emergencies, do-what-you-can emergencies, and you'll just-have-to-wait emergencies. Disasters, too, had their own ratings: unavoidable, did-the-best-we-could, my fault/your fault. Then there were godlike moments when a decision had to be made as to who most deserved to die. By the afternoon of her second day, Dtui wondered whether her heart had shrunk. She felt less. People had become less human. Death had become less of a tragedy. Her patients weren't blacksmiths or housewives, they were percentages. "With this little skill and this little pharmaceutical backup, this patient - let's call her number seven - has a forty percent chance of survival." It amazed and saddened her that, in order to do her job properly, she had to stop caring. — Colin Cotterill

The scene unfolded before him as though he were a ghost.
His mother stood on the raised stump, her body tied to the tall stake behind her. A pile of wood encircled her feet. Only a small crowd had gathered in the courtyard, despite his father's commands that all should attend. Alasdair sobbed at her feet, calling out to her. The young Alasdair climbed on the pile and clutched her flowing gown. She had been dressed in her finest, not stripped down to her chemise like the handmaid who stood tied to a post beside her. His father had always liked a display. Alasdair's hands reached and passed over his mother's large pregnant belly. With that, she sobbed, too. "Oh, Ali, be good for Momma. I'll see you in the pearly white heaven that God has promised us. Be steadfast, son. Trust your heart."
"Light it," his father ordered. — Jean M. Grant

Jude," she whispered as she touched his face. "I'm so frightened of this. This bind that links us. It whispers to me to take what you're offering, but I fear the consequences. I have lived the consequences."
His fingertips traced the column of her throat down over the swells of her breasts where they lingered until her breath caught. "I am not your father, Isabella, and you are not your mother."
"I know, but - "
"There are no certainties in life," he murmured as he lowered his head and kissed the apex of her breast where her heart hammered so hard. "But I can give you this certainty. I love you. And I want you. I have wanted you for so long, and that feeling has only grown. There must be trust between us, Isabella. Passion is not enough for me. I want more from you."
"You ask for so much," she said, then trailed off.
"Not any more than I am offering you. — Charlotte Featherstone

Shall I tell her? Shall I be a kind and merciful narrator and take our girl aside? Shall I touch her new, red heart and make her understand that she is no longer one of the tribe of heartless children, nor even the owner of the wild and infant heart of thirteen-year-old girls and boys? Oh, September! Hearts, once you have them locked up in your chest, are a fantastic heap of tender and terrible wonders - but they must be trained. Beatrice could have told her all about it. A heart can learn ever so many tricks, and what sort of beast it becomes depends greatly upon whether it has been taught to sit up or to lie down, to speak or to beg, to roll over or to sound alarm, to guard or to attack, to find or to stay. But the trick most folk are so awfully fond of learning, the absolute second they've got hold of a heart, is to pretend they don't have one at all. It is the very first danger of the hearted. Shall I give fair warning, as neither you nor I was given? — Catherynne M Valente

Love is like this small room where a child brings you to show you all their treasures. First the child shows you all the new toys that are bright and shiny and top of the line. But then she shows you all the stuff that has ended up at the bottom of the trunk. There are dolls with eyes that wobble, hair that is falling out of their heads, and dirt behind their ears. Their fingertips have been chewed off by dogs and they have been drawn on with ballpoint pen. It has been so long since they have been held or anyone has told them that they are lovely. They lie at the bottom of the toy chest, hidden and ashamed. You are either going to be disgusted by them, or you are going to be so filled with love for them that your heart almost breaks.
I took his hand in mine. — Heather O'Neill

Only you would ask. All anyone has to do is look in your eyes to see your heart shining through, and it's a warm heart, to boot. I think Hattie has made the perfect choice
Chloe felt as if she'd just gotten a telephone hug. — Catherine Anderson

Some parents find the idea of asking permission to share their perspective ridiculous, or even offensive. "Why should I have to ask my teen permission to speak?" one father asked. The question is not whether the parents have the right to speak to the teenager, they do. The question is: "Do you want your teenager to listen to what you are saying?" Asking permission recognizes that she is an individual, and she has the choice of hearing what is in your heart and mind - or not hearing it. You are recognizing your teen as an individual. You are creating the climate for sympathetic dialogue. Parents — Gary Chapman

Though it's still not right. I have other best friends, and this is different. Besides, Mike is my absolute best friend."
"Yeah, I was going to say ... " Mike nodded ...
"That's right, honey. Felix, you're ... something different."
"Amen," Mike said.
"You're not like a good neighbor or a companion for Saturday shopping, and certainly not like my husband. But you are something more than what the word 'friend' can contain. Mike has my heart, completely, eternally, no second thoughts." She grabbed Mike's hand. "But you have my ... say, my liver."
Felix frowned, pondering that. "Livers are good. Positively essential, from what I remember of biology. And good eating, if the need arises. Very well. I will be your liver ... — Shannon Hale

And do you want to hear something that was breaking my heart, day after day? I forgot the faces of my granddaughters in all that hatred. Hatred smothers all beauty. Beloved Isaboe has little resemblance to her older sisters, but your Phaedra - she made me remember those precious, precious girls, and I wasn't angry anymore. I just missed them, and it's the beauty in here," she said, pointing to her chest, "that made me remember them. Her beauty. — Melina Marchetta

Consider the roots of a simple and mundane action, for instance, buying bread for your breakfast. A farmer has grown the grain in a field carved from wilderness by his ancestors; in the ancient city a miller has ground the flour and a baker prepared the loaf; the vendor has transported it to your house in a cart built by a cartwright and his apprentices. Even the donkey that draws the cart, what stories could she not tell if you could decipher her braying? And then you yourself hand over a coin of copper dug from the very heart of the earth, you who have risen from a bed of dreams and darkness to stand in the light of the vast and terrifying sun. Are there not a thousand strands woven together into this tapestry of a morning meal? How then can you expect that the omens of great events should be easy to unravel? The Pseudo-Iamblichus Scroll — Katharine Kerr

Farewell, ungrateful traitor,
Farewell, my perjured swain;
Let never injured creature
Believe a man again.
The pleasure of possessing
Surpasses all expressing,
But 'tis too short a blessing,
And love too long a pain.

'Tis easy to deceive us
In pity of your pain;
But when we love you leave us
To rail at you in vain.
Before we have descried it
There is no bliss beside it,
But she that once has tried it
Will never love again.

The passion we pretended
Was only to obtain,
But when the charm is ended
The charmer you disdain.
Your love by ours we measure
Till we have lost our treasure,
But dying is a pleasure
When living is a pain. — John Dryden

The witch's weapon is fear. She aims to put as much into your heart as she can before she takes it. Either that or she'll simply turn you to stone. If that sounds preferable to death, it is not. The skin hardens to rock. The blood stops flowing. The living flesh is petrified, but the mind is not." The dull patter of rain was the only sound in the cavernous Armory. None of the girls moved. Most stared at the discarded weapons strewn across the floor. "The witch uses fear, but so do we. And there's nothing she fears more than love." She continued her slow patrol, locking eyes with whichever cadet was in front of her. "She has no answer for it. That is the magic of a Princess of the Shield. That is how you defeat a witch. Whoever scares the other in the core of her heart first, wins. That's the game. — M.A. Larson

She did not know how to react, for when your heart has been poisoned and someone picks a dandelion for you - because it is bright and yellow and you seem like you could use something like that - all you can do is contemplate the funny ways of weeds. — Anne Ursu

There is no greater torture than being forced to watch as your love, your reason for living, breathing, and existing, sinks into oblivion. Your heart stops no matter how you try to get to her, she just gets farther and farther away." ~Fane from 'Beyond the Vail'

"Attention shoppers, just a brief announcement, crazy ass werewolf on isle three. Those with abundance of testosterone, don't touch their lady merchandise and you might walk out of here intact." ~Jen from 'Fate and Fury'.

"In the event of some sort of gathering, if one of the bossy, overbearing, possessive fur balls has not flipped his switch and attacked some poor young pup in some misguided attempt to protect his woman's virtue, then the night is not over." ~Jen from 'Beyond the Vail — Quinn Loftis

When you're on the street and, in love, you hand someone a sandwich because he or she has no food, even if you don't say a word, your actions are prophesying to the person the heart and mind of God - and that's demonstration of love. — Shawn Gabie

Your house has two colors," she said,
while looking up at a corner
of my ceiling and walls.
"Yes," I replied.
"Why is that rainbow beach blanket on the couch?"
I replied, "Color."
She bent over and ripped
the beach towel off my white couch.
Maybe she thought I was trying to hide something.
"You talk a lot," she said sarcastically.
I looked back at her.
Maybe I raised an eyebrow,
but I didn't say anything.
She's right, of course.
I don't talk much.
I am a simple man.
I speak from my heart.
Sometimes, I write poetry. — Jeffrey A. White

And the blood pulses hard, too hard, and some sweet internal assailant comes and quickly shreds the muscles of her shoulders and neck, and soon everything will fall and dissipate, nose and ears and the three gray cells she has left, and with all her strength she tries to calm down, she must stop this, but she is unable to give up these heartbeats, the forgotten precise heartbeats which reply as an echo, and she remembers his hand upon the tablets of her heart, her hand on his chest
feel it, our prisoners are corresponding. But how? She is amazed. How did I let Shaul lead me on like this? Where have I been all evening? But she knows exactly how and where, what she was listening to and what her heart went out to. Look at you, she sighs. No, really, look at you, you and your reaching heart. — David Grossman

A month later the law student leaves you for one of her classmates, tells you that it was great but she has to start being realistic ... Later you see her with said classmate on the Yard. He's even lighter than you but he still looks unquestionably black. He's also like nine feet tall and put together like an anatomy primer. They are walking hand in hand and she looks so very happy that you try to find the space in your heart not to begrudge her. — Junot Diaz

No", she wanted to say. " I don't want you to care for me, I want to be with my husband." But nothing came out. She turned beseeching her eyes to Darcy and she saw him as if from a great distance, through a distorting glass, but his words were firm and clear. "She has no taste for your company," he said.
"No?" said the gentleman. "But I have a taste for her."
Hers, thought Elizabeth. He should have said hers.
"Let her go," said Darcy warningly.
"Why should I?" asked the gentleman.
"Because she is mine," said Darcy.
The gentleman turned his full attention toward Darcy and Elizabeth followed his eyes.
And then she saw something that made her heart thump against her rib cage and her mind collapse as she witnessed something so shocking and so terrifying that the ground came up to meet her as everything went black. — Amanda Grange

FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, MY HEART!
For heaven's sake, my heart, keep secret your love, and hide the secret from those you see and you will have better fortune.
He who reveals secrets is considered a fool; silence and secrecy are much better for him who falls in love.
For heaven's sake, my heart, if someone asks, "What has happened?", do not answer.
If you are asked, "Who is she?";
Say she is in love with another
And pretend that it is of no consequence.
For heaven's sake, my love, conceal your passion; your sickness is also your medicine because love to the soul is as wine in a glass - what you see is liquid, what is hidden is its spirit.
For heaven's sake, my heart, conceal your troubles; then, should the seas roar and the skies fall, you will be safe. — Kahlil Gibran

The robin in your tender heart
Hungers for the red berry
That titillates your tongue.
She carols as the snow falls -
And not with the chorus of the dawn
In radiant spring.
What might have been?
Your voice silenced,
The spirit of you
Destroyed,
I see glimpses of your fire
From the light that has vanished
From your eyes.
Your wings soar,
Only not to follow
Your heart.
Whatever the passion,
Let it burn.
It will save you. — Kyrian Lyndon

She's brilliant and kind and has the heart of a warrior but she doesn't have ice and razor blades inside where your soul is supposed to be. She loves. And she doesn't know how to take it back when you have to, because sometimes you sure as feck have to. — Karen Marie Moning

You're a man who has suffered and wants revenge,' she said. 'Your heart is dead, your soul is in darkness. The devil by your side is smiling because you are playing the game he invented. — Paulo Coelho

Someone has broken your heart. I knew there was something about you. That's it, isn't it?'
A little," Sara said, suddenly self-conscious.
I'm sorry.'
It happens." She shrugged, straining for nonchalance.
Maybe,' he said. 'But if it's your destiny, what can you do but accept it. — Jennifer Vandever

Another form of bargaining, which many people do, and she did too, is to replay the final painful moments over and over in her head as if by doing so she could eventually create a different outcome.
It is natural to replay in your mind the details. Deep in your heart you know what is true. Your mouth speaks the words, "My cat has died," but you still don't really want to believe it. You go over and over and over it in your mind. Your heart replays the scene for you for the express purpose of teaching you to accept what has happened. While your heart tries to "rewire" your mind to accept it, your mind keeps looking for a different answer. It doesn't like the truth. Like anything else, when you hear it enough, you finally accept that it is true. — Kate McGahan

Trust is the bedrock of intimacy; it is the ability to rely on someone because you believe that he or she has your best interest at heart. — Chana Levitan

She has a beautiful heart that plays a euphonious symphony. She is the Zahir that touches your Soul. — Avijeet Das

One that is ever kind said yesterday:
'Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey,
And little shadows come about her eyes;
Time can but make it easier to be wise
Though now it seems impossible, and so
All that you need is patience.'
Heart cries, 'No,
I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain.
Time can but make her beauty over again:
Because of that great nobleness of hers
The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs,
Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways
When all the wild Summer was in her gaze.'
Heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head,
You'd know the folly of being comforted! — W.B.Yeats

Shall I tell you the secret of true love? her father once asked her. A friend of mine liked to tell me that women love flowers. He had many flirtations, but he never found a wife. Do you know why? Because women may love flowers, but only one woman loves the scent of gardenias in late summer that remind her of her grandmother's porch. Only one woman loves apple blossoms in a blue cup. Only one woman loves wild geraniums. That's Mama! Inej had cried. Yes, Mama loves wild geraniums because no other flower has quite the same color, and she claims that when she snaps the stem and puts a sprig behind her ear, the whole world smells like summer. Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart. That — Leigh Bardugo

Thank you, sweet lady.' Ser Dontos lurched clumsily to his feet, and brushed earth and leaves from his knees. 'Your lord father was as true a man as the realm has ever known, but I stood by and let them slay him. I said nothing, did nothing ... and yet, when Joffrey would have slain me, you spoke up. Lady, I have never been a hero, no Ryam Redwyne or Barristan the Bold. I've won no tourneys, no renown in war ... but I was a knight once, and you have helped me remember what that meant. My life is a poor thing, but it is yours.' Ser Dontos placed a hand on the gnarled bole of the heart tree. He was shaking, she saw. 'I vow, with your father's gods as witness, that I shall send you home. — George R R Martin

Let Love Move You ...
If you can't stop thinking of her, it's because her essence has left an imprint on your heart ... on your soul ...
Don't be afraid of this feeling; be nourished by it ...
Let it stir your entire being ...
Let it help release your greatest self ...
Let it inspire you to be loving ... to be respectful ... to be romantic ... to be intelligent ... to be passionate ... to be a good listener ... to be appreciative ...
Let this wonderful feeling move you to become a passionate love maker ... a ravenous seducer ...
Do not be afraid of this deep love! Let it reveal the best of you ...
Let this feeling encourage you to behave in an honest and sincere manner ...
So that you may be more than a person she would settle for ... so that you may be a person she would yearn for. — Steve Maraboli

Now you're just being selfish," Dominic said to Jaime, shaking his head. "You have that body for the rest of your life. I only want it for one night."
Not in the mood to hear his packmate making moves - no matter how playful - on the female he intended to claim, Dante growled. "Dominic, no. Not to Jaime."
"But - "
"No."
Dominic sighed in resignation. "Okay, fine."
Noticing that Trey seemed to find the whole thing extremely amusing, Dante raised a brow at him. "It's funny now that he's not saying this shit to Taryn?"
Trey smiled. "Of course."
"I've always got some stored up for my gorgeous Alpha female," said Dominic with an impish grin.
Instantly Trey's smile fell from his face. "Dom, don't do it."
Dominic held his hands up, pleading innocence. "I was just going to ask her if she went to Boy Scouts ... because she has my heart all tied in knots."
Taryn groaned and chuckled at the same time. — Suzanne Wright

To by held above the earth and be brushed by the wind," she said,"it's like your heart has been kissed by beauty. — Wendelin Van Draanen

There should be a statute of limitation on grief. A rulebook that says it is all right to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 42 days you will no longer turn with your heart racing, certain you have heard her call out your name. That there will be no fine imposed if you feel the need to clean out her desk; take down her artwork from the refrigerator; turn over a school portrait as you pass - if only because it cuts you fresh again to see it. That it's okay to measure the time she has been gone, the way we once measured her birthdays. — Jodi Picoult

She looked in my heart one day And saw your image was there; She has gone weeping away. — W.B.Yeats

Scarlet shut the door behind her, leaning against it as she responded. "I came because you have been in great pain."
"Yes. And because of my great pain you still live. It seems my isolation is good for your wellbeing."
"The strength of my pulse has little to do with the health of my heart. — Chelsea Fine

Don't you see?" she cried. "I cannot have been wrong that you don't have a heart."
He came toward her swiftly, grasped her wrist, and flattened her hand to his chest. Through his ribs, his heartbeats beneath her palm were fast and hard. "You are denying me this?" he said close to her brow, the depth of his voice coating her rawness. "Because it has been like this since you walked through the door of that inn four days ago. It was like this when you stood across your parlor in London refusing me. And in Edinburgh in April. And each time I have seen you for longer than I can say."
"Stop. Do not say this."
"I don't need to kiss you to feel this," he said. "You have been turning me inside out for years. — Katharine Ashe

Although her eyes are neither golden nor heavenly blue, Terri Stambaugh has the vision of an angel, for she sees through you and knows your truest heart, but loves you anyway, in spite of all the ways that you have fallen from a state of grace. — Dean Koontz

1. Are her lips like the hot chocolate your mother made
During the winter months when you were seven? Or have you not tasted her well enough to find the fine granules of cocoa that lightly come with each kiss?

2. Do you know her favorite songs? Not when she is happy, but when she is sad. What music reaches inside her ribcage and softly consoles her heart?

3. When she is sad, are you on the phone or are you at her door? Words do not wipe away tears, fingers do.

4. Do you know all the things that keep her up at night? Do you know why she has gone three days without sleep? Do you know of the insurmountable waves of sadness that wash over her like a tsunami?

5. Do you know the things to say that will calm her heartbeat? The places to touch? The places to love?

6. Everytime you see her do you kiss her like it's the last time but love her like it's the first?

7. Do you love her?

8. Do you love her? — Nishat Ahmed

Still, there's something in this photo of the nineteen-year-old that the middle-aged woman I know has lost forever. You might call it an outpouring of energy. Nothing showy, it's colourless, transparent, like fresh water secretly seeping out between rocks - a kind of natural, unspoiled appeal that shoots straight to your heart. That brilliant energy seeps out of her entire being as she sits there at the piano. Just by looking at that happy smile, you can trace the beautiful path that a contented heart must follow. Like a firefly's glow that persists long after it's disappeared into the darkness. — Haruki Murakami

She has the kind of beauty that takes your breath from your lungs, tears from your eyes and speeds your heart each time you look at her.

She has the kind of beauty reserved for works of art, where men spend years of their life mastering their craft to replicate.

She is beauty, stunning, transcendent, right down through to the bone, the unfathomable depth of her heart.

She is Muse. She is wonder. She is sublime. — Kirk Diedrich

My mother was addicted to being rich, to servants and unlimited charge accounts, to giving lavish dinner parties, to taking frequent first-class trips to Europe. So one might say she was tormented by withdrawal symptoms all through the Great Depression. She was acculturated! Acculturated persons are those who find that they are no longer treated as the sort of people they thought they were, because the outside world has changed. An economic misfortune or a new technology, or being conquered by another country or political faction, can do that to people quicker than you can say "Jack Robinson." As Trout wrote in his "An American Family Marooned on the Planet Pluto": "Nothing wrecks any kind of love more effectively than the discovery that your previously acceptable behavior has become ridiculous." He said in conversation at the 2001 clambake: "If I hadn't learned how to live without a culture and a society, acculturation would have broken my heart a thousand times." *** — Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Perhaps you are a clockwork girl. Perhaps Mortmain's warlock father built you, and now Mortmain seeks the secret of how to create such a perfect facsimile of life when all he can build are hideous monstrosities. Perhaps all that beats beneath your chest is a heart made of metal.'
Tessa drew in a breath, feeling momentarily dizzy. His soft voice was so convincing, and yet--'No,' she said sharply. 'You forget, I remember my childhood. Mechanical creatures do not change or grow. Nor would that explain my ability.'
'I know,' said Will with a grin that flashed white in the darkness. 'I only wanted to see if I could convince you.'
Tessa looked at him steadily. 'I am not the one who has no heart. — Cassandra Clare

Why do charming girls all have fathers? She can be hidden away all by herself in one's heart to cuddle, but when her father, uncle, and brother are dragged along with her, the girl stops being so cute and carefree and it's not so easy to conceal her away in your heart anymore. Her charm has been mixed in with the dregs. Some people talk about marriage as though it were homosexual love. It's not the girl they fancy, but her old man or her elder brother they admire. — Qian Zhongshu

Almost Home
by Sugar Mae Cole
Home isn't always a place you picture in your mind
With furniture and cookies and music playing and people laughing.
Home is something you can carry around like a dream
And let it grow in your heart until you're ready for it.
Losing things helps you appreciate when you find them again
And finding things gives you hope that when you lose things
It might not be forever.
Once, long ago, a girl lost her home, but she didn't lose her dream.
She hung on to it as the wind kept trying to blow it away,
But that just made it stronger.
So now she has keys and walls of many colors
And people around her who think she's something. — Joan Bauer

I have loved your daughter from the first time I saw her. We were young. I had no clue what love was, but over the years she has never left my heart. I know with all that I am, I can make her happy."
The lord chuckled, "I believe so too, son. Now all you have to do is convince my daughter. — Julia Mills

Most of us have been touched deeply by a few important people: people who, because of their feelings for us and their actions, have helped us to become who we are today. Some of what these special people gave to us was uplifting and inspiring. Sometimes what they gave to us caused pain and only made sense later. Who has been a very special person in your life? Who has shaped you and helped you to be who you are today? Write a letter to this person. Tell the person what he or she has done for you, the impact the person has had, and your feelings about how he or she has touched you. Be as honest and authentic as possible. Write from your heart. You may decide later to send this letter, but this first version should be for you. — Annie McKee

You don't wear jewelry, do you? Besides your wedding ring, I mean?'

'Now often. If is not that I disapprove. I simply don't take the time to bother with it. I've been given a few trinkets over the years, but rarely wear them.' Thora looked down at her hand, the plain thin wedding band, the unadorned wrist, and a memory struck her. She said, 'Frank gave me a gift once - a find gold bracelet with a blue enamel heart dangling from it. He said it was to remind me that I was more than his helpmeet and housekeeper, but also an attractive woman. I was sure I'd break the delicate chain, and the heart clacked against the desk whenever I wrote in the ledger. So I put it back in its box, and there it has remained ever since.'

Nan said gently, 'We've all been given gifts, Thors, and ought not to hide them away. They remind us that we are blessed and loved. They give pleasure to those who see them - especially to the one who bestowed the gift in the first place. — Julie Klassen

She remembered the day vividly, for how can you forget the day your heart is broken? The funny thing about a broken heart is that it's not fatal. Though you wish in vain that it were, life continues on and you have no choice but to continue on with it. You take the hand that fate has dealt you and you press forward because there is nothing else that can be done. — Tracy Winegar

Once I dated a woman I only liked 43%.
So I only listened to 43% of what she said.
Only told the truth 43% of the time.
And only kissed with 43% of my lips.
Some say you can't quantify desire,
attaching a number to passion isn't right,
that the human heart doesn't work like that.
But for me it does-I walk down the street
and numbers appear on the foreheads
of the people I look at. In bars, it's worse.
With each drink, the numbers go up
until every woman in the joint has a blurry
eighty something above her eyebrows,
and the next day I can only remember 17%
of what actually happened. That's the problem
with booze-it screws with your math. — Jeffrey McDaniel