We are adhering to life now with our last muscle- the heart.

No emotion, any more than a wave, can long retain its own individual form.

Men live but by intervals of reason under the sovereignty of humour and passion.

We have hearts within, Warm, live, improvident, indecent hearts.

Great feelings take with them their own universe, splendid or abject. They light up with their passion an exclusive world in which they recognize their climate.

Man is, and was always, a block-head and dullard; much readier to feel and digest, than to think and consider.

Men, as well as women, are much oftener led by their hearts than by their understandings.

The heart has such an influence over the understanding that it is worth while to engage it in our interest.

It is as healthy to enjoy sentiment as to enjoy jam.

The English are loth to express their feelings, but in my stall in the choir I could feel the pent-up, passionate emotion, and also the fear of the congregation, not of death or wounds or material loss, but of defeat and the final ruin of Britain.