Whispering Heart Quotes & Sayings

Bloom with hope! Breathe in with hope in your soul. Thrive on with endurance in your heart. Move on with a productive mind. Listen carefully to the soft message of whispering hope. — Angelica Hopes

It can't be anyone but you
I understand the reason now
Like an angel gently descending,
You taught me the meaning of living on earth
Whispering,"I want you to protect me,"
You supported my heart — Kozue Chiba

This is my soul and the world unwinding, this is my heart in the still winter air. Finally whispering the same two words over and over: "Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking. — Emily St. John Mandel

We've got so much in this life that all we know how to do is want more. So we concentrate on the wrong things
things we can see
as being the measure of a person. We think if we win something big or buy something snazzy it'll make us more than we are. Our hearts know that's not true, but the eyes are powerful. It's easier to fix on what we can see than listen to the still, small voice of a whispering heart. — Joan Bauer

A sudden understanding, a pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo's heart: a glimpse of endless unmarked days without light or hope of betterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering. All these thoughts passed in a flash of a second. He trembled. And then quite suddenly in another flash, as if lifted by a new strength and resolve, he leaped. — J.R.R. Tolkien

It was weird to hear Grace this way. It was weird to be here, sitting in my car with her best friend when Grace was home, needing me for once. It was weird to want to tell her that we didn't need to go to the studio until things calmed down. But I couldn't tell her no. I physically couldn't say it to her. Hearing her like this ... she was a different thing than I'd ever seen her be, and I felt some dangerous and lovely future whispering secrets in my ear. I said, "I wish it were Sunday, too."
"I don't want to be alone tonight," Grace said.
Something in my heart twinged. I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them again. I thought about sneaking over myself; I thought about telling her to sneak out. I imagined lying in my bedroom beneath my paper cranes, with the warm shape of her tucked against me, not having to worry about hiding in the morning, just having her with me on our terms, and I ached and ached some more with the force of wanting it. I echoed, "I miss you, too. — Maggie Stiefvater

To My Mother First published : 1849 A heartful sonnet written to Poe's mother-in-law and aunt Maria Clemm, "To My Mother" says that the mother of the woman he loved is more important than his own mother. It was first published on July 7, 1849 in Flag of Our Union. It has alternately been published as "Sonnet to My Mother." Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of "Mother," Therefore by that dear name I long have called you - You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you In setting my Virginia's spirit free. My mother - my own mother, who died early, Was but the mother of myself; but you Are mother to the one I loved so dearly, And thus are dearer than the mother I knew By that infinity with which my wife Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life. — Edgar Allan Poe

God can communicate to us through powerful feelings. They have an energy that impels us to action. They grip our mind and will not let us go.

What is calling you? What has the voice of God been whispering to you through the desires of your heart? To what are you drawn and constantly compelled to do? It could be that God is opening the eyes of your heart to see something that no one else is seeing, and to do something that others aren't doing. If that is true, then move forward and let God worry about the how. — Tom Payne

I know you will do what your heart tells you, he added
quietly.
And I did. Not what my head was whispering, but what my
heart was shouting. I put my arms around his neck pulling him
closer. — Danka V.

Probably one or two moments in your whole life you will hear a dark whispering spirit, a voice coming from the center of things. It will have blades for lips and will not stop until it speaks the one secret thing at the heart of it all. Kneeling on the floor, unable to stop shuddering, I heard it plainly. It said, You are unlovable ... — Sue Monk Kidd

When you live in the United States, with the roar of the free market, the roar of this huge military power, the roar of being at the heart of empire, it's hard to hear the whispering of the rest of the world. And I think many US citizens want to. I don't think that all of them necessarily are co-conspirators in this concept of empire. And those who are not, need to listen to other stories in the world - other voices, other people. — Arundhati Roy

When the voices of doubt start whispering, turn-up the volume of faith and listen to your heart. — Bryant McGill

The power, it seduced, whispering to me to weave it into my own cells." A glance over his shoulder. "Before you, I would've no doubt accepted it and it would've destroyed me from the inside out."
"Before you," she whispered, "I was shut up inside my heart, protecting it from harm, and never knowing the glory I missed." She linked her hand in his. "You and I, we're a unit. I dare any evil on this earth to tear us apart. — Nalini Singh

You kneel beside her, breathing the familiar smell of Sasha's sleep, whispering into her ear some mix of I'm sorry and I will never leave you, I'll be curled around your heart for the rest of your life, until the water pressing my shoulders and chest crushes me awake and I hear Sasha screaming into my face: Fight! Fight! Fight! — Jennifer Egan

I AM RESTLESS
AM restless. I am athirst for far-away things.
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.
O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.
I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.
Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.
Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.
O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not the winged horse.
I am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.
In the sunny haze of the languid hours, what vast vision of thine takes shape in the blue of the sky!
O Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that the gates are shut everywhere in the house where I dwell alone! — Rabindranath Tagore

I was a shitty version of myself. The shadow side. I made a lot of noise because I felt bad about hurting someone's feelings and I didn't want to get quiet and really figure out how I felt. I was afraid to lie down and put my hand on my heart and hear the tiny voice whispering inside me saying I had screwed up. — Amy Poehler

Forgotten Stars. Time in the Flame.
Missing Shard. The Only Rain.
Door of the Memory. Waves in the Silk.
Silent Birch. Thoughts of Lunatics.
Secret of the Flowers. Soaring of the Souls.
Heart in the Night. And a Kiss Unfolds.
Forgotten Voyager. Voyage in the Words.
Nothing of the World. Someone of the Hemisphere.
Trembling Stones. Sucking Tears.
The Next Gift. The World in the Kisses.
Missing Angels. The Woman of the Girl.
Guardian of the Rings. Thorn in the Pearl.
Whispering Sword. Touching exclaim.
Soul in the Truth. Heat in the Flame.
Thy name, my name, Thy name!
Came. Became. To Remain. — Jasleen Kaur Gumber

And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend,
Sought once again the shore, and found a shell,
And thought, I will my heavy story tell
Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send
Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart;
And my own tale again for me shall sing,
And my own whispering words be comforting,
And lo! my ancient burden may depart.
Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim;
But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone
Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan
Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him.
-from The Sad Shepherd — W.B.Yeats

And he'd railed at her, his voice booming so loud the bed had seem to shake. "You canna do this - take my goddamned heart and then leave me! You think I will no' follow?"
She knew he was constantly there, was aware of his movement and comprehended his words, but she couldn't seem to open her heavy eyelids or speak.
At night, he would wrap his body around hers, keeping her warm, whispering against her hair, "You enjoy being contrary. Then prove them all wrong and get better." He'd clutched her hip, then balled his fist there. — Kresley Cole

Sometimes I wonder if she's whispering to hear heart: Beat. Beat. Beat. To her lungs: In, out. In, out. Like it takes all her time and energy to exist. — Emery Lord

He pulled the knitting away from her, throwing it in the grass, then sank down on his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her lap. He was shaking, she realized, and the tears were pouring down her face, onto him, as she stroked his long, silken hair and cried.
She didn't care what it sounded like - the hiccupping noises, the choking sobs.
Her own body was shaking, racked by the final release, and he sat back on his heels and pulled her out of the chair, into his arms, holding her so tightly that a weaker woman might break, whispering to her in Japanese, sweet, loving words, letting her cry.
She was a strong woman, and her tears, so long denied, only made her stronger.
His heart was pounding against hers, his hands firm and tender, pushing the hair away from her tear-drenched face. When he kissed her she couldn't breathe, and she didn't care. — Anne Stuart

Just like God, a woman is not a problem to be solved but a vast wonder to be enjoyed. This is so true of her sexuality. Few women can or even want to "just do it." Foreplay is crucial to her heart, the whispering and loving and exploring of one another that culminates in intercourse. That is a picture of what it means to love her soul. She yearns to be known and that takes time and intimacy. It requires an unveiling. As she is sought after, she reveals more of her beauty. As she unveils her beauty, she draws us to know her more deeply. — John Eldredge

The heart is a peculiar thing. It sees and interprets details long before the brain has started to think there might be something worth noticing. The brain resents this skill, however, and will often spitefully do all it can to repress what the heart might be whispering. — Anne Elisabeth Stengl

Erin's throat closed up a little. "We slept together after knowing each other for three hours," she whispered.
"Why are you whispering? There's no one here but us."
"Because it sounds much tawdrier when I say it out loud."
"Tawdrier?" He clapped his hand over his mouth to try to stifle a laugh.
Erin punched him in the arm. "It's a high-dollar word for sleazy. — Jenny Lyn

Bilbo almost stopped breathing, and went stiff himself. He was desperate. He must get away, out of this horrible darkness, while he had any strength left. He must fight. He must stab the foul thing, put its eyes out, kill it. It meant to kill him. No, not a fair fight. He was invisible now. Gollum had no sword. Gollum had not actually threatened to kill him, or tried yet. And he was miserable, alone, lost. A sudden understanding, a pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo's heart: a glimpse of endless unmarked days without light or hope of betterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering. — J.R.R. Tolkien

Or I would be the rain itself, wreathing over the island, mingling in the quiet of moist places, filling its pores with its saturated breaths. And I would be the wind, whispering through the tangled woods, running airy fingers over the island's face, tingling in the chill of concealed places, sighing secrets in the dawn. And I would be the light, flinging over the island, covering it with flash and shadow, shining on rocks and pools, softening to a touch in the glow of dusk. If I were the rain and wind and light, I would encircle the island like the sky surrounding earth, flood through it like a heart driven pulse, shine from inside it like a star in flames, burn away to blackness in the closed eyes of its night. There are so many ways I could love this island, if I were the rain. — Richard Nelson

I said those things and did those things because you'd hurt me," he continued, whispering just outside my ear. "And I wanted to hurt you. I wanted you to feel the same way I did when I woke up and found you gone. I wanted you to feel the anxiety I felt when I tried calling you and you wouldn't answer. I wanted you to feel the anger I felt when I showed up at the diner and watched you through the windows for a few minutes. Serving and talking to guests like it was just another day. Like you hadn't just broken my heart. — Nicole Williams

Ah! Thou gifest me such hope and courage, and I haf nothing to gif back but a full heart and these empty hands," cried the Professor, quite overcome.
Jo never, never would learn to be proper, for when he said that as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, "Not empty now," and, stooping down, kissed her Friedrich under the umbrella. — Louisa May Alcott

This is a beautiful morning; the sun is rising with a smiling face. Everything around me is alive and smiling. Everything is whispering in my ear to enjoy every moment and enjoy the morning. My heart is dancing with you, with morning light. — Debasish Mridha

The books downstairs were reciting their poetry to each other, rubbing together, whispering through the leathery covers. Wine was flowing through the water pipes. You had caught my leaping heart in your hands like a fish. — Francesca Lia Block

That mad and oppressive demon that had possessed him from the instant he set his eyes on her by the banks of the King's Flow kept whispering to him his heart will freeze if he stayed away from her for up to a work period. — Ray Anyasi

Her heart pounded as [Cam's] lips bypassed hers and came to a stop, whispering in her ear: 'Don't let him flip you off next time. — Lauren Kate

I'm here!" I said ... "I'm read to go home!" As if they couldn't see me. As if I couldn't remember what it had been like, fluttering next to someone's ear and whispering into it. How the whole earth was like a musical instrument that we could play effortlessly.
... I could not fly. My sister was not there. My heart was broken. — Carolyn Turgeon

He stroked Sido's cheek and bent down to kiss her, whispering what his heart had always known, what he had never said before to anyone. 'I love you, I always will. — Sally Gardner

How far back his treachery goes, who can guess?' said Gandalf. 'He was not always evil. Once I do not doubt that he was the friend of Rohan; and even when his heart grew colder, he found you useful still. But for long now he has plotted your ruin, wearing the mask of friendship, until he was ready. In those years Wormtongue's task was easy, and all that you did was swiftly known in Isengard; for your land was open, and strangers came and went. And ever Wormtongue's whispering was in your ears, poisoning your thought, chilling your heart, weakening your limbs, while others watched and could do nothing, for your will was in his keeping. — J.R.R. Tolkien

I crumple onto the lounger and cry again even though I didn't think I had any tears left. And then Dante is next to me, with his wet arms around me and he's whispering in my ear.
And the huskiness of his voice.
The smell of his wet skin.
The beating of his heart against my hand.
All of it.
I don't want to be without him.
Maybe he's right. Maybe love is all that matters. And we can get through our differences. We can get through anything.
And then he's kissing me.
And I'm letting him.
And I'm kissing him back.
Because I love him and he loves me and Elena Kontou doesn't matter.
Dante's hands are all over me, warm and strong and I lean into him, into his warmth, his strength. It's still raining, but we are kissing in the rain and it's sexy as hell. In fact, I think I'll kiss in the rain forever. For the rest of my life. Because it's just that sexy. — Courtney Cole

Nakao: Koizumi, I'm so sorry I said such cruel things.
Otani: What's that?
Nakao: The whispering of your heart. — Heikichi Nakao Otani

When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music. — Kahlil Gibran

Seeming utterly fragile and vulnerable, the silhouette pulsed almost imperceptibly with the beating of her heart or the motions of her inner heart, as if she were whispering soundless words to the darkness. — Haruki Murakami

Thus the aristocracy took their revenge by singing lampoons on their new master, and whispering in his ears sinister prophecies of coming catastrophe.
In this way arose feudal Socialism; half lamentation, half lampoon; half echo of the past, half menace of the future, at times by its bitter, witty and incisive criticism, striking the bourgeoisie to the very heart's core, but always ludicrous in its effects, through total incapacity to comprehend the march of modern history. — Karl Marx

Beautiful city! ... spreading her gardens to the moonlight, and whispering from her towers the last enchantments of the Middle Age ... her ineffable charm ... Adorable dreamer, whose heart has been so romantic! — Matthew Arnold

Beneath the surface level of conditioned thinking in every one of us there is a single living spirit. The still small voice whispering to me in the depths of my consciousness is saying exactly the same thing as the voice whispering to you in your consciousness. 'I want an earth that is healthy, a world at peace, and a heart filled with love.' It doesn't matter if your skin is brown or white or black, or whether you speak English, Japanese, or Malayalam - the voice, says the Gita, is the same in every creature, and it comes from your true self. — Eknath Easwaran

He discovered in his heart the first faint whispering of pure Christianity, and in some way he continued to keep his virtue intact by keeping his vices active. — Thorne Smith

Open the access to your heart and write down what your voice is whispering ... — John Geddes

And then we cowards
who loved the whispering
evening, the houses,
the paths by the river,
the dirty red lights
of those places, the sweet
soundless sorrow
we reached our hands out
toward the living chain
in silence, but our heart
startled us with blood,
and no more sweetness then,
no more losing ourselves
on the path by the river
no longer slaves, we knew
we were alone and alive.
(Translated By Geoffrey Brock) — Cesare Pavese

Whispering like it's a secret, only to condemn the one who hears it, with a heavy heart. — Florence Welch

These Australians hear the whispering in their heart and know it can only be silenced by coming to terms with the original owners of this beautiful and bounteous land. Many Australians of goodwill sense that a moment for national leadership has slipped past us and is gone. — Patrick Dodson

Sometimes love burns so hot in your veins that it consumes all rational thought. You become a walking shell that can no longer function without your significant other whispering into your soul, telling your heart to beat. — Teresa Mummert

I drank some chocolate milk and then lay down on the sofa in my "living" room, not really sad, just floating; trying to imagine what it was to be dead. Nothing much came to me. I remember closing my eyes and whispering her name, trying to make her come back. As we stared at each other, neither of us moving, I felt some ... thing go shut in my heart while something else swung open — Tim O'Brien

He heard her in his heart - whispering from the mist — John Geddes

Archibald MacLeish affirmed that 'A poem should be equal to / not true'. As a defiant statement of poetry's gift for telling truth but telling it slant, this is both cogent and corrective. Yet there are times when a deeper need enters, when we want the poem to be not only pleasurably right but compellingly wise, not only a surprising variation played upon the world, but a retuning of the world itself. We want the surprise to be transitive, like the impatient thump which unexpectedly restores the picture to the television set, or the electric shock which sets the fibrillating heart back to its proper rhythm. We want what the woman wanted in the prison queue in Leningrad, standing there blue with cold and whispering for fear, enduring the terror of Stalin's regime and asking the poet Anna Akhmatova if she could describe it all, if her art could be equal to it. — Seamus Heaney

Peace and rest at length have come
All the day's long toil is past,
And each heart is whispering, 'Home,
Home at last. — Thomas Hood

I've only heard my clients whispering about it, every now and then. But there's a group that's formed, right here in Rifthold, and they want to put Aelin Galathynius back on Terrasen's throne." Her heart stopped beating. Aelin Galathynius, the lost heir of Terrasen. "Aelin Galathynius is dead," she breathed. Archer shook his head. "They don't think so. They say she's alive, and that she's raising an army against the king. She's looking to reestablish her court, to find what's left of King Orlon's inner circle. — Sarah J. Maas

Who are you? I am the whispering that allows you to know your Self. I am the ache to be free. I am the unforgettable and unwavering realization that you are already found. I am what you seek when you do not even know you are seeking. I am you at your most clear; you at your most comforted. I am what makes life worth living. I see the obstacles you face, and I know how to triumph against them. I am the yearning to open and relax. To come into sanity you must release everything. See with fresh eyes. Bow down. Speak directly to the mystery. Stop interpreting. Know through the Knowing and feel through the body. Fling yourself into your most vulnerable places. Welcome the heart-yearning to be unprotected and fierce in the nakedness of your deep Presence. Stop comparing. Stop complaining. Be. — Elisa Romeo

What if I told you that if you took me to that train right now, I'd throw myself in front of it without a moment's hesitation?" I whisper. "I swear to God I would, Jonah."
( ... )
I'm shaking so hard and it feels like I'll never be able to stop.
"Please don't be crazy, Taylor," Griggs whispers, leaning his head against mine. "Please don't be crazy." He kisses me, holding my face between his hands, whispering over and over again, "Please."
It's the pleading in his voice that calms my heart rate. — Melina Marchetta

Art, if it can be ascribed value, is most valuable when its beauty (and the beauty of the truth it tells) bewilders, confounds, defies evil itself; it does so by making what has been unmade; it subverts the spirit of the age; it mends the heart by whispering mysteries the mind alone can't fathom; it fulfills its highest calling when into all the clamor of Hell it tells the unbearable, beautiful, truth that Christ has died, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again. None of these songs and stories matter if the beauty they're adding to isn't the kind of beauty that redeems and reclaims. — Andrew Peterson

God is whispering in your heart, in the whole existence, just tune your ears. — Amit Ray

Satan mounts his mutiny against God through a deceitful stronghold: God is untrustworthy. In subtle and not-so-subtle ways, he places God's heart on trial by whispering insidious lies: God is holding back on you. He wants you to jump through hoops in order to earn His love. He's stingy. He doesn't have your best interest in mind. You're better off trusting in yourself. Your resources and functional saviors work better then waiting and trusting in Him. — James MacDonald

I was tired in the evening yesterday. I felt drained by the last days outer conflicts. I felt separated from life. Suddenly I heard the wind blowing through the trees outside my open window, whispering a silent and playful invitation: "Do you want to play? Do you want to join the dance?" This playful invitation again joined my heart and being with the Existential dance. I was again in a silent prayer and oneness with life. — Swami Dhyan Giten

( ... ) I could "talk fast"
that's to say, without hesitating, stammering
most of the time
but there were categories of words, sentiments, I could never say, they'd have stuck in my throat. The embarrassment of it even whispering-teasing to Legs for instance 'Yeah you're my heart too!' or 'I love you' or 'I would die for you', nobody ever talked that way, mostly there was just my mother and me and we hardly talked at all. — Joyce Carol Oates

Along the brittle treacherous bright streets
of memory comes my heart,singing like
an idiot,whispering like a drunken man — E. E. Cummings

Believe in the whisperings of God to your own heart. — Mary MacKillop

A verse of Scripture in the morning, may become a blessing for all the day. It may sing in the heart as a sweet song, from morning until evening. It may become a liturgy of prayer in which the soul shall voice its deepest needs and hungers-amid toils, struggles, and cares. It may be a guide through perplexing tangles, Gods voice whispering cheer, a comforter breathing peace in sorrow. — J.R. Miller

Do you understand yours? What a blessing life is. If you don't believe it, get up and watch the sunrise tomorrow or take time to gaze up at the stars. Listen to the restful sound of a mourning dove in the quiet woods, or the wind whispering through the leaves above you. Contemplate all that you are grateful for, and never give up on your dreams. Most importantly, give your whole heart to all that you love in this life. — Julianne MacLean

Robbie dropped his chin a little as if considering what Stephen said. Maybe not, but whispering from your heart ain't always easy; and Dusty knew that real well, probably more than either of us. — Brandon Shire

What's wrong with the world," Nana explained, "is that people stopped listening to their hearts ...
"Not everybody stopped listening," she continued, "but enough people did to make a difference. We've go so much in this life that all we know how to do is want more. So we concentrate on the wrong things
things we can see
as being the measure of a person. We think if we can win something big or buy something snazzy it'll make us more than we are. Our hearts know that's not true, but the eyes are powerful. It's easier to fix on what we can see than listen to the still, small voice of a whispering heart."
Nana turned her eyes on me like a vet looking for fleas: "A heart will say amazing things if it's given half a chance. — Joan Bauer

To be fully human is to be wild. Wild is the strange pull and whispering wisdom. It's the gentle nudge and the forceful ache. It is your truth, passed down from the ancients, and the very stream of life in your blood. Wild is the soul where passion and creativity reside, and the quickening of your heart. Wild is what is real, and wild is your home. — Victoria Erickson

That feeling in your stomach when you hear him whispering off-key, down the hall. That way your heart trips and then hammers against your ribs when he sees you and he grins like a little kid at the top of a steep, shiny-hot slide. Call it hormones, an early-stage bacterial zombie infection, or a very pleasant dream I was experiencing; I didn't care. I liked That. — Laurie Halse Anderson

We got quiet. The garden was combing her hair and putting on earrings. The house was full of dancing creatures, not male and female but both, two lovers in one body. The books downstairs were reciting their poetry to each other, rubbing together, whispering through the leather covers. Wine was flowing through the water pipes. You had caught my leaping heart in your hand like a fish. — Francesca Lia Block

A stream of primal voices
Whispering in the breeze of your heart
To urge you on. — Scott Hastie

Will paused for a moment and then grinned, that rare grin of his that lit up his face and changed the whole nature of it. It was a smile Tessa had worried once was gone forever, gone with Jem down into the darkness of the Silent City. Jem was not dead, but some bit of Will had gone with him when he'd left, some bit chiseled out of Will's heart and buried down there among the whispering bones. And Tessa had worried, for that first week just after, that Will would not recover, that he would always be a sort of ghost, wandering about the Institute, not eating, always turning to speak to someone who was not there, the light in his face dying as he remembered and fell silent. — Cassandra Clare

And Jaina hears him whispering to her in her dreams, telling her that no one you love ever really has to die--if you don't want them to...All you have to do is hold a place for them in your heart. — Troy Denning