Quotes
Quotes about Heart
In many ways doth the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal.
What outward form and feature are
He guesseth but in part;
But what within is good and fair
He seeth with the heart.
"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
"The few locks which are left you are gray;
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,--
Now tell me the reason I pray."
A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.
Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,
Whose truths electrify the sage.
Again to the battle, Achaians!
Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree,
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die.
I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near;
And I said, "If there's peace to be found in the world,
A heart that was humble might hope for it here."
Like a young eagle who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd to wing the dart
Which rank corruption destines for their heart.
The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er;
And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.
Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,
Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
No, the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close;
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she turn'd when he rose.
And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen,
The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
When true hearts lie wither'd
And fond ones are flown,
Oh, who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?
I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart,
I but know that I love thee whatever thou art.
Oft in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken.
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
I give thee all,--I can no more,
Though poor the off'ring be;
My heart and lute are all the store
That I can bring to thee.
Who has not felt how sadly sweet
The dream of home, the dream of home,
Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet,
When far o'er sea or land we roam?
When thus the heart is in a vein
Of tender thought, the simplest strain
Can touch it with peculiar power.
Alas! how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love!
Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied;
That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off,
Like ships that have gone down at sea
When heaven was all tranquillity.
Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote.
I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston and Concord and Lexington and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever.
Far from mortal cares retreating,
Sordid hopes and vain desires,
Here, our willing footsteps meeting,
Every heart to heaven aspires.
