Head Over Heart Quotes

Now I was shocked! The old shibboleth, intelligence! Had not our government been culpable enough in pampering the high-IQ draftees as though they were too intelligent to fight for their country? Could not Doctor Gentle see that I was proud to be a scout, and before that a machine gunner? Intelligence, intelligence, intelligence. Keep it up, America, keep telling your youth that mud and danger are fit only for intellectual pigs. Keep on saying that only the stupid are fit to sacrifice, that America must be defended by the low-brow and enjoyed by the high-brow. Keep vaunting head over heart, and soon the head will arrive at the complete folly of any kind of fight and meekly surrender the treasure to the first bandit with enough heart to demand it. ~ Robert Leckie

In the strange anomaly of my existence, feelings with me had never been of the heart, and my passions always were of the mind. ~ Edgar Allan Poe

Her choice ruins the lives of the people she cares most about. Because she picked propriety over passion. Head over heart. ~ Kody Keplinger

It was like having a heart to heart with a squirrel. You want to believe they understand you, but deep down, logical tells you that it's jetting over their heads. ~ Laurel Dewey

Then she turned to me and her eyes widened. "Holy shit. It's a girl." She dropped a hand over her heart, backing up a step. ~ C.L.Stone

I've been the head of the photography program at Bard College for over 30 years, and I take that as seriously as I do my photography. My time is devoted to that too. ~ Stephen Shore

But if they keep accidentally ripping your heart out over and over again, doesn't mean they're terrible people, but it probably means you're better off getting to a distance where they can't keep doing that. Accidentally or not. ~ Sophie Gonzales

My dad gave me a haircut ... and it wasn't a very good one. When I went out of the house, my friends got on my case and said it looked like someone put a chili bowl over my head and cut around it. ~ Chili Davis

Fen shook his head and soaped up his hands. "You humans are very strange, mate." Fen tipped his head. "I saw this video that showed women being tortured."

Jeff sobered. "What?"

"They were submitting voluntarily too."

Jeff immediately relaxed as Fen's hands ran over his body. "What were they doing?"

"Getting something called a Brazilian... ~ Dana Marie Bell

I started to fire back, but Tink suddenly appeared in the open doorway, and what the? He had one of those skillets just large enough to cook an egg in, and he was holding it over his head like a battle-axe. I was kind of surprised that he could carry the pan, but Tink was buff for a little guy. He had a six-pack - a brownie six-pack. His face was contorted in a silent battle cry as he started into the room.
Wide-eyed, I shook my head. As much as I appreciated the effort, his interference would not end well. That small as hell frying panwas not going to do any damage. Thankfully, Tink froze and lowered the pan. A second passed then he zoomed out of the doorway. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I peered down the alleyways and into the darkest corners. That Donovan song, 'Try and Catch the Wind', kept playing over-and-over in my head. The odor of dried fish filled the air. I breathed in deeply and smiled. I felt that God, evil, and even death were all very near, but I wasn't afraid. I didn't want to miss a single moment. ~ Richard Cezar

Nicola had to move closer to Marcus, had to take his hands in hers and hold them over her heart as though she could give hers up for his if it meant she could take away all of the pain he'd had to deal with at such a terribly young age. ~ Bella Andre

Phrases and images from the game filtered through his head... hitting the sweet spot, working the rosin bag, over the bat, going deep, in the hole, double header, baseball was a filthy, dirty sport! ~ J.D. Ruskin

Mike's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Don't kid yourself, Bella. The guy's head over heels for you." "I know," I sighed. "Life is complicated." "And girls are cruel," Mike said under his breath. ~ Stephenie Meyer

I stared down at the white bikini in horror. My cleavage was out in full form, while the bikini bottoms hugged my hips, tinier than anything I'd ever dare buy for myself. What the hell was Gavin Fletcher thinking putting me in something like this? And he wanted me to go outside in it, much less get my picture taken?
Yeah, right! That was absolutely not happening.
"We haven't got all day, Lani," Martin barked from on deck.
I put my head in my hands, sighing deeply before brushing my hair back from my eyes. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
There was a gentle rapping on the bedroom door, and I opened it, wishing I had a towel to cover up with. Gavin's gold-flecked eyes met mine, and I stepped back to let him in. He sucked in a breath, looking me over in that brash way of his, his lips curling into a grin.
"Now that's what I've been hoping for," he said.
I laughed nervously and crossed my arms in front of my body. "I don't know if I can do this. You heard Martin out there."
Gavin reached forward and put a hand on my arm, smoothing his large palm over my skin. I shivered beneath his touch, feeling the heat from a connection I wondered if he felt, too. Judging by the heat in his gaze, he did, but how was that even possible? I couldn't be reading him right.
"You look stunning, Aolani," he said, that dangerous, bad-boy smile of his making my toes curl. "You're exactly what I've been waiting for. Exactly what this campaign needs. Pleas ~ Delilah Fawkes

Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, lilies and laurels over them we lay, and violets o'er each unforgotten head. ~ Richard Hovey

Scott is gone.
I've had two days with this truth. This truth and me, we're acquainted now, past the shock of our first unhappy meeting and into the uneasy-cohabitation stage. Its barbs are slightly duller than they were that first night, when even breathing felt agonizing and wrong. Tootsie and Marjorie hovered over me, waiting to see whether I'd collapse, while Mama looked on, white-faced, from her rocker by the fire. "Gone?" I would whisper, to no-one in particular. I, too, waited for me to be overwhelmed - but all that happened was what happens to anyone who has lost their one love: my heart cleaved into two parts, before and foreverafterward. ~ Therese Anne Fowler

Now that I've said this, I can't help but say more, can't help but speak the words that have been gathering in my head like dark clouds before the storm, building pressure and growing, and rolling over themselves in chaos. ~ Carrie Ryan

Dear Josh,
Thank you for giving me the most amazing memories. My life growing up was so full because you were in it. Having your love and loving you was always
just right. It made sense. You were my home. When I was with you I knew everything would be okay.
You dried my tears for me when I was sad. You held my hand when we buried my mother. You made me laugh when the world seemed like it was
falling apart. You were every special memory a girl could have. That first kiss will forever be embedded in my brain. It was as funny as it was sweet.
Our life together molded me into the woman I've become. I understand what it feels like to be loved and cherished because I had that with you. I
never doubted my worth because you taught me I was worthy.
When you said that one day I would heal I didn't believe that was possible. Life couldn't go one without my best friend. There was no room for
another guy in my heart. It turns out you were right. You always were. I found him. He is incredible. He is nothing at all like I would have planned. He
doesn't fit into a perfect package. He managed to wiggle into my heart and take over before I knew what was happening. I found that happiness you told me
would come along. I'm going to go live that life. I'm sure it will be a wilder ride than I ever imagined and I can't wait to live it. He's my home now. I'll
always love you. I'll never forget you. But this is my goodbye. I wasn't ready before to ~ Abbi Glines

My old friend, what are you looking for?
After years abroad you've come back
with images you've nourished
under foreign skies
far from you own country.'

'I'm looking for my old garden;
the trees come to my waist
and the hills resemble terraces
yet as a child
I used to play on the grass
under great shadows
and I would run for hours
breathless over the slopes.'

'My old friend, rest,
you'll get used to it little by little;
together we will climb
the paths you once knew,
we will sit together
under the plane trees' dome.
They'll come back to you little by little,
your garden and your slopes.'

'I'm looking for my old house,
the tall windows
darkened by ivy;
I'm looking for the ancient column
known to sailors.
How can I get into this coop?
The roof comes to my shoulders
and however far I look
I see men on their knees
as though saying their prayers.'

'My old friend, don't you hear me?
You'll get used to it little by little.
Your house is the one you see
and soon friends and relatives
will come knocking at the door
to welcome you back tenderly.'

'Why is your voice so distant?
Raise your head a little
so that I understand you.
As you speak you grow
gradually smaller
as though you're sinking into the ground.'

'My old friend, stop a moment a ~ Yorgos Seferis

I kept my head down and my mouth full. I didn't want Frankie's sharp eyes or tongue focused on me any more than necessary. It was a lot easier with Daniel taking up half of the food and most of the air.
"What about it, Ella?" he asked when everything was gone except the parsley garnish. "When do we get the pleasure of your vocal stylings?"
"I don't sing."
"You mean you won't sng," Sadie corrected. I tried to be charitable about her treason; she goes pretty brainless around Daniel. "Ella sings really well."
"I'm sure she does." Daniel tipped his beer glass in my direction. "In fact, I bet she could totally murder 'Don't Stop Believin'." A song that is actually one of my guilty pleasures. I think he probably knew that. I think he probably had himself a lovely chuckle over it.Then he whispered, "Coward."
In another story, the plucky little heroine would have slapped both hands onto the table, making it wobble a little on its predicatbly uneven fourth leg. She would then have taken both hands, ripped the long scarf from around her neck and, chin high and scar spotlit, stalked to the dais, leaped up, and slayed the audience with her kick-ass version of "Respect." Or maybe "Single Ladies," for the sheer Yay factor.
In this version,I gave Daniel what I hoped was a slayer look and busied myself refolding my napkin.
He was,not surprisingly, unfazed. "Can I ask you a question?"
I sighed. "Will my answer to that one make any difference?"
"Non ~ Melissa Jensen

He glances over his shoulder, no doubt hearing my insanely loud shoes stop in their tracks. Then he looks again. It's a double take for the record books.

"I'm out stalking," I call. It doesn't come out the way I'd intended. It's not lighthearted or funny. It comes out like a warning. I'm one scary bitch right now. I hold my hands up to show I'm not armed. My heart is racing.

"Me too," he replies. Another cab cruises past like a shark.

"Where are you actually going?" My voice rings down the empty street.

"I just told you. I'm going out stalking."

"What, on foot?" I come closer by another six paces. "You were going to walk?"

"I was going to run down the middle of the street like the Terminator."

The laugh blasts out of me like bah.I'm breaking one of my rules by grinning at him, but I can't seem to stop.

"You're on foot, after all. Stilts." He gestures at my sky-high shoes.

"It gives me a few extra inches of height to look through your garbage."

"Find anything of interest?" He strolls closer and stops until we have maybe ten paces between us. I can almost pick up the scent of his skin.

"Pretty much what I was expecting. Vegetable scraps, coffee grounds, adult diapers. ~ Sally Thorne

If I may so express it, I was steeped in Dora. I was not merely over head and ears in love with her, but I was saturated through and through. Enough love might have been wrung out of me, metaphorically speaking, to drown anybody in; and yet there would have remained enough within me, and all over me, to pervade my entire existence. ~ Charles Dickens

I made it when I was young, by my standards, after years of playing on various harps. I shaped its pieces out of Ymris oak beside night fires in far, lonely places where I heard no man's voice but my own. I carved on each piece the shapes of leaves, flowers, birds I saw in my wanderings. In An, I searched three months for strings for it. I found them finally; sold my horse for them. They were strung to the broken harp of Ustin of Aum, who died of sorrow over the conquering of Aum. Its strings were tuned to his sorrow, and its wood was split like his heart. I strung my harp with them, matching note for note in the restringing. And then I returned them to my joy." Morgon ~ Patricia A. McKillip

EVEN THOUGH I KNEW it was going to be what she would ask me, Graciela McCaleb's request gave me pause. Terry McCaleb had died on his boat a month earlier. I had read about it in the Las Vegas Sun. It had made the papers because of the movie. FBI agent gets heart transplant and then tracks down his donor's killer. It was a story that had Hollywood written all over it and Clint Eastwood played the part, even though he had a couple decades on Terry. The film was a modest success at best, but it still gave Terry the kind of notoriety that guaranteed an obituary notice in papers across the country. I had just gotten back to my apartment near the strip one morning and picked up the Sun. Terry's death was a short story in the back of the A section. ~ Michael Connelly

I could either wait it out or pack my bags, but I could't force a confrontation with a man who refused to be confronted. So I did what a lot of women do: I kept my head in the sand. And I waited for winter to be over. ~ Christina Bartolomeo

But right now he wanted nothing more than a hot shower, a shave and a decent cup of tea.
Though he'd have traded all of that for one more taste of Keeley.
Knowing it irritated him had him scowling in the direction of her paddock. The minute he was cleaned up, he promised himself, the two of them would have a little conversation.Very little, he decided, before he got his hands on her again. And when he did, he was going to-
The erotic image he conjured in his head burst like a bubble when he rounded the house and saw Keeley's mother kneeling at the flower bed.
It was not the most comfortable thing to come across the mother when you'd been picturing the daughter naked. Then Adelia looked over at him, and he saw the tears on her cheeks. And his mind went blank.
"Ah...Mrs. Grant."
"Brian." Sniffling, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I was doing some weeding. Just tidying up the beds here." She tugged at the cap on her head, then she lowered her hands, dropped back on her heels. "I'm sorry."
"Ah..." Said that already, he thought, panicked. Say something else. He was never so helpless as he was with female tears. ~ Nora Roberts

No" she jerked back, stared up at him.
Her eyes were like thunderclouds. He'd never seen them like that. Shock and fear filled them. Her face was paper white. Her body shuddering.
"Don't you leave me!" She gripped his shirt and tried to shake him, tears falling from her eyes. "Don't you leave Noah."
His head lowered. He touched her lips with his and knew this woman held the best part of him. The memories of the husband he had been, the man he had been. He couldn't destroy that. He refuse to.
He pushed her to Jordan slowly, loath to let her go. To release her. Knowing that releasing her was the only way to save the memories she held.
"Don't you leave me!" She screamed the order, eyes blazing, her lips trembling as tears fell and hysteria threatened to overwhelm her. "If you leave me, Noah Blake, if you don't come back when this is over, don't bother coming back at all.
He touched her cheek. Ran his thumb over her lips. "You are the best part of me," he whispered. "Always remember that, Sabella. The very best part of me."
Before she could grab him, hold him to her, he pulled away, grabbed one of the rifles Mike had set on the table across the room. And left."
― Lora Leigh, Wild Card ~ Lora Leigh

Wait here." I ran back up to my room to grab his blue-and-black plaid flannel shirt, still in my possession. Back on the porch, I handed it over.

"My shirt. I forgot you had it."

"It's 'my' shirt. You need to go home tonight and sleep in it. I made the mistake of washing it and now it doesn't smell like you anymore."

He turned the shirt over and over in his hand, laughing and shaking his head.

"And I want it back first thing in the morning. You read me? ~ Emma Scott

It seemed just as clear to me that I would never pick up a pen again, fill a page with writing. The profession seemed too onerous, a perpetual mirror of our unredeemed existence, which I was also so loath to accept and endure. Over and over again to meet the morning hour anew, the day, the ever-estranged world, to touch them and wring one word from your stricken heart - and know this: this will not last, this is the moment of parting, already forgotten. But, still exhausted and blinded by pain, you must set off again, and who will make it worth your while? Is it worth the effort? ~ Annemarie Schwarzenbach

I've never seen a more beautiful woman in my life," Sebastian rasped, brushing his fingers over her cheek. Raelynn snorted. " You're only saying that because you're drunk."Sebastian shook his head. " No. I thought that from the moment you almost broke my finger," he said with a smirk.Raelynn laughed. " You're crazy."" It's good that you understand that now," he joked with a chuckle. ~ Andria Large

It's you, Tessa." He crawled up her body and levered her onto her side, his fingers a warm link he tunneled in under her hair. "Don't you see? For the first time, I know what's real. My life isn't about doing what everyone else thinks is right in order to be happy. Not anymore. Because I found my own happiness." The ball of his thumb swept her lips. "I found it with you." How could she not believe him, when his words were so filled with love? "Tell me what you're thinking," he said.

"I'd forgotten what it's like, you know? It's been so long…I'd just forgotten how incredible it all feels." When tears rushed her eyes, she blinked them away. So she could stay right in the moment, within the tenderness of his gaze. She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart. "I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you did for me, Dibs. You've become everything that's good and right in my life. And I'm sorry if I made things difficult for you." His eyes glistened, two sparkling bits of heaven over a thin crescent of tears.

"Rex, you're breaking my heart over here."

"I'm just so grateful, and its important to me you understand. You gave me a second chance at happiness. You know that, right? ~ A.J. Nuest

On the contrary, an airy and innocent playfulness seemed to flicker like the shadow of summer leaves over her childish face, and around her buoyant figure. She was always in motion, always with a half-smile on her rosy mouth, flying hither and thither, with an undulating and cloud-like tread, singing to herself as she moved, as in a happy dream. Her father and female guardian were incessantly busy in pursuit of her, but, when caught, she melted from them again like a summer cloud; and as no word of chiding or reproof ever fell on her ear for whatever she chose to do, she pursued her own way all over the boat. Always dressed in white, she seemed to move like a shadow through all sorts of places, without contracting spot or stain; and there was not a corner or nook, above or below, where those fairy footsteps had not glided, and that visionary, golden head, with its deep blue eyes, fleeted along. ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe

Why hadn't the Woman in Black called for Raphael? Mathilde's idea that she'd stopped looking for him seemed out of keeping with most ghost
stories; ghosts didn't change their behavior, did they?
Whatever the reason, Caitlyn was glad of it. Raphael was hers, and she didn't want to share him. She hated the idea of a long-lost lover roaming
the halls of the castle, looking for him. It meant there was someone else in his life.
She was, she realized, jealous.
That's stupid! How can I be jealous of a ghost, over a guy who might not even exist?
And yet, there was no other word for what she felt. Since the moment she'd seen Raphael riding in the valley, her heart had claimed him as her
Knight of Cups ~ Lisa Cach

Really, it's my fault. It was there. A hundred times there. How often did I see it? I knew. It kept happening. Over and over, you'd say you were through with him ... and over and over, I'd believe it ... no matter what my eyes showed me. No matter what my heart told me. My. Fault. ~ Richelle Mead