Let my heart be wise. It is the gods' best gift.

The emotions may be endless. The more we express them, the more we may have to express.

The heart errs like the head; its errors are not any the less fatal, and we have more trouble getting free of them because of their sweetness.

Feelings are the fine instruments which shape decision-making in an animal cursed and blessed with intelligence, and the freedom which is its corollary. They are signals directing us toward goodness, safety, pleasure, and group survival.

All the knowledge I possess everyone else can acquire, but my heart is all my own.

Blossoms are scattered by the wind and the wind cares nothing, but the blossoms of the heart no wind can touch.

The head does not know how to play the part of the heart for long.

The human heart is like a ship on a stormy sea driven about by winds blowing from all four corners of heaven.

Time cools, time clarifies; no mood can be maintained quite unaltered through the course of hours.

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at every turn.