Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, it is, for that reason, to be of no account?
In women everything is heart, even the head.
Memory, wit, fancy, acuteness, cannot grow young again in old age, but the heart can.
The last, best fruit which comes to late perfection, even in the kindliest soul, is tenderness toward the hard, forbearance toward the unforbearing, warmth of heart toward the cold, philanthropy toward the misanthropic.
The heart needs not for its heaven much space, nor many stars therein, if only the star of love has arisen.
See, indeed, that your daughter is thoroughly grounded and experienced in household duties; but take care, through religion and poetry, to keep her heart open to heaven.
