“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.”
Sylvia Plath book The Bell Jar
Variant: I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.
Source: The Bell Jar (1963), Ch. 20
Source: Eat, Pray, Love
“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.”
Sylvia Plath book The Bell Jar
Variant: I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.
Source: The Bell Jar (1963), Ch. 20
“To this day, my heart skips a beat every time I hear one of those special bulletins.”
Yolanda King (1955–2007) American actress
After recollecting her father's death to People magazine (1999) http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/05/16/AR2007051600075.html <br class="br">1990s
Kenneth Rexroth (1905–1982) American poet, writer, anarchist, academic and conscientious objector
In Defense of the Earth (1956), She Is Away
Context: Now I know surely and forever,
However much I have blotted our
Waking love, its memory is still
there. And I know the web, the net,
The blind and crippled bird. For then, for
One brief instant it was not blind, nor
Trapped, not crippled. For one heart beat the
Heart was free and moved itself. O love,
I who am lost and damned with words,
Whose words are a business and an art,
I have no words. These words, this poem, this
Is all confusion and ignorance.
But I know that coached by your sweet heart,
My heart beat one free beat and sent
Through all my flesh the blood of truth.
“The human heart beats itself to death.”
Ron English (1959) American artist
Ron English's Fauxlosophy (2016)
George Gordon Byron (1788–1824) English poet and a leading figure in the Romantic movement
St. 2.
So, We'll Go No More A-Roving (1817)
Mikhail Baryshnikov (1948) Soviet-American dancer, choreographer, and actor born in Letonia, Soviet Union
As quoted in "Profile: The Soloist".
“Peace to the weary and the beating heart,
That fed upon itself!”
Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1802–1838) English poet and novelist
A History of the Lyre
The Venetian Bracelet (1829)
Emily Brontë book Wuthering Heights
Heathcliff (Ch. XXXIII).
Source: Wuthering Heights (1847)
Context: I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution, and temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably shall remain above ground, till there is scarcely a black hair on my head. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat! And it is like bending back a stiff spring — it is by compulsion that I do the slightest act, not prompted by one thought; and by compulsion that I notice anything alive or dead, which is not associated with one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it so long and so unwaveringly, that I’m convinced it will be reached — and soon — because it has devoured my existence. I am swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfilment. My confessions have not relieved me — but they may account for some otherwise unaccountable phases of humour which I show. Oh, God! It's a long fight, I wish it were over!