Once upon a time, a man and woman fell in love. But such things cannot last. For the heart is a treacherous thing. And love, love is nothing more than a fairy tale.
The ones that love us never really leave us. And you can always find them… in here.[putting his hand to Harry’s heart]
Without hope or agenda – Just because it’s Christmas – And at Christmas you tell the truth – To me, you are perfect – And my wasted heart will love you.
Think of the one place you’ve always wanted to see. Now find it in your mind’s eye, then feel it in your heart.
Now, the pain we all feel at this dreadful loss reminds me, and, reminds us, that while we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one.
What is it that makes us human? It’s not something you can program. You can’t put it into a chip. It’s the strength of the human heart. The difference between us and machines.
Loyalty, honor, a willing heart, I can ask no more than that.
There’s a reason the heart is the organ given to love, you know. If it stops to rest, we die.[to Poirot]
The truth is… I gave my heart away a long time ago. My whole heart. And I never really got it back.
Nothing can survive without a heart.
I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.
You can’t hide what’s in your heart.
