It breaks my heart to know that millions of gay Americans still can’t marry the one they love, and I can. That makes no sense.
At her birthday, my seven-year-old daughter will say that she wants these big cakes and certain expensive toys as presents, and I can't say no to her. It would just break my heart. But when I was little, for birthdays we just played outside and we were happy if we got any cake.
It breaks my heart that I don't see my daughters every day, don't get to hug them and brush their hair.
That's the one thing you wake up with every day: How long have I got left? And that's the saddest thing in the world, because you have this absolute realization that everything you love you're going to have to let go of and give up. I look at my daughter and I think, There's going to be a point where I'm not going to be around for her. Even the thought of that breaks my heart.
You know what, the thing that breaks my heart is that there's no way I can answer it without hurting someone on either side.
I'd like to keep singing - whether that's small or big. To stop singing for a living would break my heart.
It breaks my heart because there are some parts I know I would have the right spirit for, and I just don't get them because I have an accent.
I don't make movies about issues. This is my same litmus test for all the movies I love: Is it a great character on a great emotional quest with a great emotional need? Do they overcome great emotional obstacles? Is it a fantastic story? I didn't set out to be a political activist. I'm just a human being who's moved by certain things, and if certain things break my heart, I set out to fix them.
A Hundred Years From Now Well a hundred years from now I won't be crying A hundred years from now I won't be blue And my heart would have forgotton she broke ever vow I won't care a hundred years from now Oh, it seem like yesterday you told me You couldn't live without my love somehow Now that you're with another it breaks my heart somehow I won't care a hundred years from now * Refrain Now do you recall the night sweetheart you promised Another's kiss you never would allow That's all in the past dear it didn't seem to last I won't care a hundred years from now * Refrain
It breaks my heart that my father never knew my children. He should have been around for another 25 years.
Name me no names for my disease, With uninforming breath; I tell you I am none of these, But homesick unto death —Homesick for hills that I had known, For brooks that I had crossed, Before I met this flesh and bone And followed and was lost… .And though they break my heart at last, Yet name no name of ills. Say only, “Here is where he passed, Seeking again those hills.
You can't break my heart. It's made of water.
It breaks my heart to find myself within the cesspool of reality TV shows.
I started out looking for the perfect love story, but what I found instead was something even more beautiful - a messy love, an imperfect love, a human love. In this time of uncertainty, can I continue to love, even if it breaks my heart?
Break my heart. Break it a thousand times if you like. It was only ever yours to break anyway.
It's not the wickedness of the pagan that breaks my heart. It's the compromise of the Christian that grieves my soul.
I have to ask myself how I can possibly expect to know Jesus as he would want to be known if my life remains unscathed by trouble and grief. How can I hope to grasp anything of God's heart for this broken planet if I never weep because its brokenness touches me and breaks my heart? How can I reflect his image if I never share in his sufferings? And how will any of us ever learn to treasure his hesed and grace if we never experience phases where these blessings seem absent?
Music breaks my heart constantly.
What breaks my heart is suffering of any kind.
I simply cannot fathom the horrors of being enslaved, and the thought that children are ripped apart from their families and used year in and out for sex and hard labor under the threat of violence and death breaks my heart.
First move me, astonish me, break my heart, let me tremble, weep, stare, be enraged-only then regale my eyes.
Well it's been about 100 years and every attempt at a comics writers' union has failed miserably. There is, sadly, a long history of short-term thinking and self-destructive behavior among my fellow comic book creators. No matter how many horror stories they have heard they won't even go so far as to hire themselves a lawyer when they need it. It breaks my heart. I am a very proud union member of the Writers Guild. And I can't imagine my fellow comic creators being able to pull something like this together.
I'm getting bigger roles, and I'm on location more, and I have a wife and family. I'd rather work less, and I've started to implement that. It was either that or my wife would break my heart.
I'm very much still connected to the way that I've always been perceived. And it happens. I'm not trying to play up anything, it is true. I've walked by numerous cars where they've locked the doors, I get into an elevator and someone moves out of the way. I've been to a place where some people think their children shouldn't play with my children. And that breaks my heart.
My 4-year-old is the most kind-hearted person I've ever met in my life. Granted, he's 4, but he doesn't know people wouldn't like him. He doesn't understand that people would hurt him. When I get in these situations, that's what breaks my heart.
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