But though you’d never starve your body to wasting and still expect to go on, you starve your heart, yet act as though you can still draw on it forever without the debt ever coming due. If you fall—when you fall, you’re going to fall like a sta...
Ye different, Emma. I doona need ye in order to survive. But surviving is no' the same as living. Or the same as feeling human again. I am alive when I'm with you. Ye feed my soul. (Angus MacKay)
You ask me why I’m nice to you,” he said. “Why, why, why. But you don’t ask me stuff that matters. Who I am or where I been. What I see when I look at you. What I want.
A writer paradoxically seeks the truth and tells lies every step of the way. It's a lie if you make something up. But you make it up in the name of the truth, and then you give your heart to expressing it clearly.
I like interesting myself in the lives of others. God put these people in my life for a reason. Maybe for my learning. Hopefully to help them. I like it when I can help. My heart aches for those who suffer and walk a difficult path.
It was full of wounding remarks rather brilliantly said, perhaps said for the sheer virtuosity of giving pain neatly. Each of its phrases found its way through the eyes of the Marquesa, then, carefully wrapped in understanding and forgiveness, it san...
Freedom is more than just a willingness to live; it is a force that binds us all. Being truly free is seeing America as our "heart and home." Uniting around a common good will help bring us together in true happiness into the future.
Freedom is more than just a willingness to live. It is a force that binds us all. Being truly free is seeing America as our "Heart and Home". Uniting around a common good will bring us true happiness into the future.
The kindness sent from one compassionate soul to another during the time of loss of one held so dear allows the sorrow-filled heart to open wide, filling the space of emptiness that grief may have created with a renewed sense of peace, compassion, an...
But once in a while, you pick the right thing, the exact best thing. Every day, the moment you open your eyes and pull off your blankets, that's what you hope for. The sunshine on your face,warm enough to make you heart sing.
More than every once in awhile, More than most dreams, More than just my heart, More than anything, More than you know, And more than I can say, I’ve loved you more Every passing day
The poets and writers are trying to understand the reality of woman, but up to this day they have not understand the hidden secret of her heart because they look upon her from behind the sexual veil and see nothing but the externals: they look upon h...
God help me, he thought. God help all us poor wretches who could create and find we must lose our hearts for it because we cannot afford to spend our time at it. (“Mad House”)
ADIEU The glimmer farther away than the head The heart-skip On the slope where the air rolls its voice The spokes of the wheel the sun in the rut At the crossroads near the embankment a prayer Some words that are not heard Nearer the sky And on its s...
I was very fortunate to grow up with parents who love to travel, so I traveled from a young age. My dad's a heart surgeon and goes to conferences all over the world. By the time I was seven, I traveled outside the country for the first time. We went ...
In the priesthood we share the sacred duty to labor for the souls of men. We must do more than learn that this is our duty. It must go down into our hearts so deeply that neither the many demands on our efforts in the bloom of life nor the trials tha...
When you can’t reach the standards of another’s heart you must ask yourself, "What value do I put on my soul that I would subject myself to such rejection?
I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,' said Priscilla. 'Then your soul is a golden narcissus,' said Anne, 'and Diana's is like a red, red rose. Jane's is an apple blossom, pink and wholesome and sweet.' 'And our own is a white violet, w...
I am my heart’s undertaker. Daily I go and retrieve its tattered remains, place them delicately into its little coffin, and bury it in the depths of my memory, only to have to do it all again tomorrow.
A warm sunny evening, the plash and gurgle of the waves in the rock pools, the rush of the cold gin. I thought for the first time of my novel, abandoned, all these years, and I came up, unprompted, with the perfect title. Octet. Octet by Logan Mounts...
I couldn't pick just one. The moment I'd touched the sugar packet, a thousand thoughts cascaded through my mind. I shook my head. Sam didn't know what he was asking. How could this small pink square of processed sugar be transformed into my heart's d...
