I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be yours.
I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.
There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.
There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison
A man does not recover from such devotion of the heart to such a woman! He ought not; he does not.
Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her.
Sitting with her on Sunday evening - a wet Sunday evening - the very time of all others when if a friend is at hand the heart must be opened, and every thing told.
Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart.
Look into your own heart because who looks outside, dreams, but who looks inside awakes.
The Very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone.
You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. Dare not say that a man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.
The worst crimes; are the crimes of the heart
My heart is, and always will be, yours.
If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.
There could have never been two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved. Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.
With women, the heart argues, not the mind.
Everybody's heart is open, you know, when they have recently escaped from severe pain, or are recovering the blessing of health.
What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering?
The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse had not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits; for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years; and though everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time.
To her own heart it was a delightful affair, to her imagination it was even a ridiculous one, but to her reason, her judgment, it was completely a puzzle.
He could not forgive her, but he could not be unfeeling. Though condemning her for the past, and considering it with high and unjust resentment, though perfectly careless of her, and though becoming attached to another, still he could not see her suffer, without the desire of giving her relief. It was a remainder of former sentiment; it was an impulse of pure, though unacknowledged friendship; it was a proof of his own warm and amiable heart.
Always resignation and acceptance. Always prudence and honour and duty. Elinor, where is your heart?
Beware how you give your heart.
What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering. For weeks, Marianne, I've had this pressing on me without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature. It was forced on me by the very person whose prior claims ruined all my hope. I have endured her exultations again and again whilst knowing myself to be divided from Edward forever. Believe me, Marianne, had I not been bound to silence I could have provided proof enough of a broken heart, even for you.
Where the heart is really attached, I know very well how little one can be pleased with the attention of any body else.
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