How frail the human heart must be – a mirrored pool of thought.
There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.
His heart was like a sensitive plant, that opens for a moment in the sunshine, but curls up and shrinks into itself at the slightest touch of the finger, or the lightest breath of wind.
My writing, like everything I do, comes profoundly from my heart. I believe that if you follow your heart you will be successful in one way or another. Old-fashioned as that might sound, the philosophy is true.
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