I love you. You are my heart beating outside of my chest.
Many of the male faeries had their shirts unbuttoned and chests bare. (How’s this for freaky: no nipples or belly buttons. )
I smoke till I got chest pains
I'm just more content with myself. Like, if I've got something to say, I want to get it off of my chest.
You should only attempt to borrow from those who have but few of this world's goods, as their chests are not of iron, and they are, besides, anxious to appear wealthier than they really are.
I can always use a good chest fly in my life
Libraries are community treasure chests, loaded with a wealth of information available to everyone equally, and the key to that treasure chest is the library card. I have found the most valuable thing in my wallet is my library card.
I think a man is a man, and a man has a hairy chest, so let that be!
Just because I don't wear my heart on my sleeve - " "You don't even wear your heart in your chest.
I got a pain in my chest, and I can't breathe
I turned and bumped by head against his chest a few times. It was the nearest hard surface.
. . . what most people tell you a confidence for is to get something off their chest which hasn't really been on it. They don't necessarily want to hide the truth from you, but they're out to hide it from themselves
Well what's in your Amazonian hope chest?
My heart was beating out of my chest.
Do you girls have hope chests?' Lloyd asked. We certainly do. ' I don't,' said Betsy. 'My husband and I are going to use paper plates and napkins. ' Poor Joe!' Lucky Larry!
Men have broad and large chests, and small narrow hips, and more understanding than women, who have but small and narrow breasts, and broad hips, to the end they should remain at home, sit still, keep house, and bear and bring up children.
Love opens my chest, and thought returns to its confines.
In a swamp, as in meditation, you begin to glimpse how elusive, how inherently insubstantial, how fleeting our thoughts are, our identities. There is magic in this moist world, in how the mind lets go, slips into sleepy water, circles and nuzzles the banks of palmetto and wild iris, how it seeps across dreams, smears them into the upright world, rots the wood of treasure chests, welcomes the body home.
Every person has a revolution beating within his or her chest
We’d torn open our chests and shown our cowardly hearts, and you can never stay friends after something like that
