I'll quit competing when my heart quits beating
I am anchored on a resolve you cannot shake. My heart, my conscience shall dispose of my hand - they only. Know this at last.
In the depths of the night, fear grips my heart. It paralyzes my mind. But most of all, I feel very, very alone
Steeping my life in beauty brings color to my days and a song to my heart
My life shines with God's radiant blessings when my heart is the color of joy
The next time we met was at Appomattox, and the first thing that General Grant said to me when we stepped inside, placing his hand in mine was, Pete, let us have another game of brag, to recall the days that were so pleasant. Great God! I thought to myself, how my heart swells out to such magnanimous touch of humanity. Why do men fight who were born to be brothers?
My life is only half full When I receive. My heart is completely full Only when I give.
I have never thought of writing for reputation and honor. What I have in my heart must come out; that is the reason why I compose.
Yes I have loved, as no one on earth ever loved, with an insensate and furious love, so violent that I wonder it did not break my heart
The life blood streaming thro' my heart, Or my more dear immortal part, Is not more fondly dear.
The God in whose hands are all our days and ways, did cast into my hand (one day) a book of Martin Luther's ; it was his Comment on the Galatians! ... I found my condition in his experience so largely and profoundly handled, as if his book had been written out of my heart ... I do prefer this book of Martin Luther upon the Galatians, excepting the Holy Bible, before all the books that ever I have seen, as most fit for a wounded conscience.
If the Great Spirit had desired me to be a white man he would have made me so in the first place. He put in your heart certain wishes and plans, and in my heart he put other and different desires. It is not necessary for eagles to be crows.
My heart is on a budget. It keeps me on the brink.
London's where I was brought up. It's where my heart is and where I get my inspiration.
My songs are a direct route into my brain and my heart.
You could stab a knife right through my heart and you'd be too late.
My heart found its home long ago in the beauty, mystery, order and disorder of the flowering earth. I wanted future generations to be able to savor what I had all my life.
Wildflowers are the stuff of my heart!
I prepare so no one can take what is mine, no one can replace my mind, my heart.
I will always love the guitar as long as I'm alive, the Blues is my heart.
I love when it's me you look at with that laughter in your eyes. It's reassuring, as if in letting me know my heart also had colors that you enjoy seeing. It makes me sparkle inside; I adore the times we sparkle together...to me nothing is better than those.
I've been looking for answers all of my life. Yes I realize now these are not what I needed. No, in fact, all I need is what I've decided on, in my heart to believe. In all the crossing confusion and haste of numerous opinion and stance, my own opinion has become my own boat from where I observe the raging opinions of the sea, relaxed, drinking my lemonade and feeling very amused by it all.
In the marvelous month of May when all the buds were bursting, then in my heart did love arise. In the marvelous month of May when all the birds were singing, then did I reveal to her my yearning and longing.
Ah! my heart is weary waiting, Waiting for the May: Waiting for the pleasant rambles Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles, Where the woodbine alternating, Scent the dewy way; Ah! my heart is weary, waiting, Waiting for the May.
When loud by landside streamlets gush, And clear in the greenwood quires the thrush, With sun on the meadows And songs in the shadows Comes again to me The gift of the tongues of the lea, The gift of the tongues of meadows. So when the earth is alive with gods, And the lusty ploughman breaks the sod, And the grass sings in the meadows, And the flowers smile in the shadows, Sits my heart at ease, Hearing the song of the leas, Singing the songs of the meadows.
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