But in my heart of hearts, this is the kind of thing... this is what everyone is struggling with in their lives - relationships and family. To me, it's always an interesting area to mine. I'm drawn to it.
Sometimes, there's so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can't take it. Like my heart's going to cave in.
I had my heart set on becoming an English teacher, but stumbled into acting after meeting a theatrical agent in my dad's restaurant in San Diego.
Ill just say whats in my heart: Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.
I find that the best way into things is to open my heart up to it and allow it to be as truthful and honest as I can be, and I can make it. It's hard to do that; it's hard to open yourself up to something.
I mean, I know my heart is not clean, and your heart is not clean, and none of our urban hearts are clean. But you can be washed again.
I am incredibly passionate about my life, I am absolutely unable to hide any emotion. If I wrote a book, I'd have to call it 'P is for Passion'. I don't go in for anything halfway. My feelings about things are instant, on the spot. And my heart is always, always on my sleeve.
If you're callin' 'bout my heart, it's still yours / I should've listened to it a little more / Then it wouldn't have taken me so long / To know where I belong
And deep in my heart. The answer, it was in me. And I made up my mind. To define my own destiny
I've never had my heart broken.
My mom and dad, you're my heart, thank you for keeping me going all these years and never letting me give up.
In some ways I feel sorry for racists and for religious fanatics, because they so much miss the point of being human, and deserve a sort of pity. But then I harden my heart, and decide to hate them all the more, because of the misery they inflict and because of the contemptible excuses they advance for doing so.
By the River Piedra I sat down and wept. There is a legend that everything that falls into the waters of this river -- leaves, insects, the feathers of birds -- is transformed into the rocks that make the riverbed. If only I could tear out my heart and hurl it into the current, then my pain and longing would be over, and I could finally forget.
What makes a good book? Scholars and critics have been debating that question for decades. I like books that touch my head and my heart at the same time.
My brain said no. But my heart!
I've bespelled this locket, for you; my own, my mate. The day has come when death forced us to part. You must know that I for you, forever, I shall wait. So until we meet again I hold your love safely within my heart. Remember, your oath was to temper strength with mercy. No matter how long apart we shall be, I hold you to that oath eternally... eternally...
Okay, okay.” I set my hand on top of his and guide it to my chest, so it’s right over my heart. “Feel my heartbeat. Can you feel it?” “Yes.” “Feel how steady it is?” “It’s fast.” “Yes, well, that has nothing to do with the box.” I wince as soon as I’m done speaking. I just admitted to something. Hopefully he doesn’t realize that.
For Beatrice, our love broke my heart, and stopped yours.
There can be many opinions on a thing, but there is only one truth." Vashet smiled lazily. "And if the pursuit of the truth was my goal, that would concern me." She gave a long yawn, stretching like a happy cat. "Instead I will focus on the joy in my heart, [...}
The world in books seemed so much more alive to me than anything outside. I could see things I'd never seen before. Books and music were my best friends. I had a couple of good friends at school, but never met anyone I could really speak my heart to. We'd just make small talk, play soccer together. When something bothered me, I didn't talk with anyone about it. I thought it over all by myself, came to a conclusion, and took action alone. Not that I really felt lonely. I thought that's just the way things are. Human beings, in the final analysis, have to survive on their own.
For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.
They wouldn't understand, and I don't feel the need to explain, simply because I know in my heart how real it was. When I think of you, I can't help smiling, knowing that you've completed me somehow. I love you, not just for now, but for always, and I dream of the day that you'll take me in your arms again
My inner chemistry had been hijacked by a mad scientist, who poured the fizzy, volatile contents of my heart from a test tube marked SOBER REALITY into another labeled SUNNY DELUSION, and back again, faster and faster, until the floor of my life was slick with spillage.
I had to wait for someone special. Someone who would make my heart feel as if it's been trampled by elephants, thrown into the amazon, and eaten by piranhas.
This paper will serve instead of a confidential friend into whose ear I might pour forth the overflowings of my heart. It will not sympathize with my distresses, but then, it will not laugh at them, and, if I keep it close, it cannot tell again; so it is, perhaps, the best friend I could have for the purpose.
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