Loving Chicago is like loving a woman with a broken nose.
No one knows how it is that with one glance a boy can break through into a girl's heart.
You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back. The heart will break. . . but broken live on.
It was only later that I suffocated under the weight of his arguments, and his darker thoughts articulated. It was only later that our tongues produced landslides, that we become caught in the cracks between what we said and what we meant, until we could not find each other, did not trust the words in our own mouths.
A new wound makes all the old ones ache again.
Sadness flies on the wings of the morning, and out of the heart of darkness comes the light.
I don't understand, Why do I stress the man, When there's so many bigger things at hand?
You're creating an intimacy that everybody feels, that it's their experience, not yours. I'll never introduce a song and say, now this song is about 'my' broken heart.
Only when you are lost can love find itself in you without losing its way.
You want me to act like we've never kissed, you want to forget; pretend we've never met , and I've tried and I've tried, but I haven't yet. . . You walk by, and I fall to pieces.
This time I wouldn't forget him, because I couldn't ever forgive him - for breaking my heart twice.
Deadlines are meant to be broken. And I just keep breaking them.
Since you went the sun refuses to shine The sky joins me in weeping for your absence All our pleasure is gone with you. . . Silence reigns everywhere. . . Oh come back! Already the shepherds and their flocks call for you! Come back soon, or it will be winter in May.
To weep is to make less the depth of grief.
And then she realized that his presence was the wall, his presence was destroying her. Unless she could break out, she must die most fearfully, walled up in horror. And he was the wall. She must break down the wall. She must break him down before her, the awful obstruction of him who obstructed her life to the last. It must be done, or she must perish most horribly.
Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart. O when may it suffice?
Hearts Live By Being Wounded
It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.
There is a road from the eye to heart that does not go through the intellect.
Yet leave me not; yet, if thou wilt, be free; love me no more, but love my love of thee.