Man makes one journey all his living days, Down through the realms of music and of art; Down through the halls of fame and glorious praise; Down through the tears and triumphs of the heart To some sweet woman waiting some place there. For her he builds his cities and makes war, Seeks gold and glorious wealth to store.
Do what the heart commands. The heart is our only guide.
In the vacuum of the heart love falls forever.
There is no pleasing New Englanders, my dear, their soil is all rocks and their hearts are bloodless absolutes.
The heart prefers to move against the grain of circumstance; perversity is the souls very life.
I secretly understood: the primitive appeal of the hearth. Television is - its irresistible charm - a fire.
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