Quotes About Head

Heart weeps. Head tries to help heart. Head tells heart how it is, again: You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday. Heart feels better, then. But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart. Heart is so new to this. I want them back, says heart. Head is all heart has. Help, head. Help heart.

A water snake glided smoothly up the pool, twisting its periscope head from side to side; and it swam the length of the pool and came to the legs of a motionless heron that stood in the shadows. A silent head and beak lanced down and plucked it out by the head, and the beak swallowed the little snake while its tail waved frantically.

I'm not afraid of doing anything. I have no fear. It's made me pretty confident in that I can have a plane flown over my head or I can go head-to-head with an alligator or with a python, and it's all okay and it's so fun.

The heart, in its journey to Allah, Majestic is He, is like that of a bird; Love is its head, and fear and hope are its two wings. When the head and two wings are sound, the bird flies gracefully; if the head is severed, the bird dies; if the bird loses one of its wings, it then becomes a target for every hunter or predator.

The minister said, “Let us pray,” but as everyone else bowed their head, I could only stare slack-jawed at the sight of Peter Van Houten. After a moment, he whispered, “We gotta fake pray,” and bowed his head.

I hate to tell you, dragon, but that's an integral part of the whole usiness," he whispered. "If you're afraid to touch me then we're not going to get very far." She lifted her head to look at him. "I thought I could lie back and let you ravish me," she said with complete honesty. He shook his head, the smile hovering around his lips, his eyes intent. "This is a cooperative effort, my love. You have to do your part.

You can read minds, and you didn't tell me?” Link stared at me like he just found out I was the Silver Surfer. He rubbed his head nervously. “Hey, man, all that stuff about Lena? I was yankin’ your chain.” He looked away. “Are you doin’ it now? You're doin’ it, aren't you? Dude, get out of my head.” He backed away from me and into the bookshelf. “I can't read your mind, you idiot.

The scoreboard can't make you a loser. If you walk off the field with your head up, you don't lose. You don't hang your head for nobody. People in the stands think you're the greatest or the worst - their opinion doesn't make a difference. The only opinion that makes any difference is your own opinion of yourself.

The reality is that what you find out is that your head is the medicine. If your head is not in the right place and you don't think positively, all the medicine technology in the world is not going to work.

Without the eye, the head is blind. Without the head, the eye is adrift.

The back of Donald Trump's head is fantastic and his eyebrows are amazing. His overbite and his series of chins and the color of him and the texture. It's amazing! He's like an artifact. It's an amazing head to draw and I have to think it's got to be part of his success. It's ready-made for public consumption.

People ask why I do monochromatic clothes; the reason is because I'm thinking in proportion to the world. In this room, your head is going to look so much more interesting if it's on a monochromatic column. Whereas I think people think of outfits and gets a little too fussy, a little too detailed. I'm always thinking of the line of a person standing with their head in a room and I always feel like a stalk, or a stem, or a pillar is nicer. I always think of everything architecturally.

Come from the heart, the true heart, not the head. When in doubt, choose the heart. This does not mean to deny your own experiences and that which you have empirically learned through the years. It means to trust your self to integrate intuition and experience. There is a balance, a harmony to be nurtured, between the head and the heart. When the intuition rings clear and true, loving impulses are favored.

We have reached the age, those of us to whom fortune has assigned a post in life's struggle, when beaten and smashed and biffed by the lashing of the dragon's tail, we begin to appreciate that the old man was not such a fool after all. We saw our parents wrestling with the same dragon, and we thought, though we never spoke a thought aloud, 'Why doesn't he hit him on the head?' Alas, comrads, we know now. We have hit the dragon on the head and we have seen the dragon smile.

Jesus, our head, is already in heaven; and if the head be above water, the body cannot drown.

Little do the devout worshippers of the Vatican suspect, when they lift up their eyes in mute adoration upon the head of their God on Earth, the Pope, that what they admire, is after all, but the caricatured head-dress, the Amazon-like helmet of Pallas Athene, the heathen goddess Minerva! In fact, there is scarcely a rite or ceremony of the christian Church that does not descend from Occultism.

During the winter, you head out into the darkness for a run. When spring comes, and the first crocus pokes up its head...you know it was worthwhile.

Things are going round and round in my head--or maybe my head is going round and round in things.

What a luxury a cat is, the moments of shocking and startling pleasure in a day, the feel of the beast, the soft sleekness under your palm, the warmth when you wake on a cold night, the grace and charm even in a quite ordinary workaday puss. Cat walks across your room, and in that lonely stalk you see leopard or even panther, or it turns its head to acknowledge you and the yellow blaze of those eyes tells you what an exotic visitor you have here, in this household friend, the cat who purrs as you stroke, or rub his chin, or scratch his head.

Vin Diesel and I have different approaches to life. We found a respect for one another but we were such opposite ends of the spectrum. The reason why it's worked is because we are so different. I don't know if we necessarily found a stride together because there are certain days I still want to crack him in the head! But he looks at me and there are days he wants to crack me in the head too. Then there are times he'll look at me and say, 'Man, I wish I could be more like you,' and I'm like, 'F**ker, I wish I could be more like you!'

When she had gone upstairs, he walked to a window and stood looking up at the sky. His head thrown back, he felt the pull of his throat muscles and he wondered whether the peculiar solemnity of looking at the sky comes, not from what one contemplates, but from that uplift of one's head.

... He didn't know how to say good-bye. His throat ached from the strain of holding back his emotions. “I don't want to leave you,” he said humbly, reaching for her cold, stiff hands. Emma lowered her head, her tears falling freely. “I'll never see you again, will I?” He shook his head. “Not in this lifetime,” he said hoarsely. She pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt her wet lashes brush his cheek. “Then I'll wait a hundred years,” she whispered. “Or a thousand, if I must. Remember that, Nikki. I'll be waiting for you to come to me.

While technically I did not commit a crime, an impeachable offense... these are legalisms, as far as the handling of this matter is concerned; it was so botched up, I made so many bad judgments. The worst ones, mistakes of the heart, rather than the head. But let me say, a man in that top job - he's got to have a heart, but his head must always rule his heart.

How you're still always trapped. How your head is the cave, your eyes the cave mouth. How you live inside your head and only see what you want. How you only watch the shadows and make up your own meaning.

A Christian is not a person who believes in his head the teachings of the Bible. Satan believes in his head the teachings of the Bible! A Christian is a person who has died with Christ, whose stiff neck has been broken, whose brazen forehead has been shattered, whose stony heart has been crushed, whose pride has been slain, and whose life is now mastered by Jesus Christ.

When I’m running, there’s always this split second when the pain is ripping through me and I can hardly breathe and all I see is color and blur—and in that split second, right as the pain crests, and becomes too much, and there’s a whiteness going through me, I see something to my left, a flicker of color […]—and I know then, too, that if I only turn my head he’ll be there, laughing, watching me, and holding out his arms. I don’t ever turn my head to look, of course. But one day I will. One day I will, and he’ll be back, and everything will be okay. And until then: I run.

...for the first time in my life, a voice went off in my head:'You have no power over what happens in your life. Drugs dictate exactly what you're going to do. You've taken your hands off the steering wheel, and you're going wherever the drug world takes you.' That had never changed. The feeling would well up inside of me, and no matter how much I loved my girl or my band or my friends or my family, when that siren song 'Go get high now' started playing in my head, I was off.

You rarely see one punch kill anybody. I mean, Davey Moore died, the first fight I ever worked for the title, my guy fought and was getting killed, and he hit Davey Moore. Davey Moore went down. There was no bottom rope to it. I then put bottom rope to it, when I got in power. Hit his head. One blow, hit his head and died.

If I'm writing about my life, I'm already thinking of anyone in my life who might be reading it, and I'm keeping that as a kind of censorship voice in my head. And then, commenters - I'm keeping that in my head, too.

This is what I do to keep my head screwed on semi-straight and keep my heart open. Whenever I sing, that's why I sing. Whether it's at the Grammys, whether it's in the bathroom, whether it's in front of 10,000 people or three people, by my guru's grace, my head stays in that place.

He stuck the pencil over his ear, looking unconvinced. "Mmm. What position would you be the most comfortable for you?" I couldn't say aloud the answers that popped into my head at that question, but the flush that spread across my face like wildfire gave me away. He caught his lower lip in his teeth, and I was sure it was to contain a laugh. Most comfortable position? What about with my head stuck under a pillow?

Perseverance is the most overrated of traits, if it is unaccompanied by talent; beating your head against a wall is more likely to produce a concussion in the head than a hole in the wall.

Fred Silverman, the head of ABC, he offered me a lot of comedy series but I told him I'd already been the best comedy series around, "The Odd Couple," and so when he saw that I did Quincy he called my agent and said, Jack turns me down? All my good series and he ends up playing an undertaker." And this was the HEAD of ABC series.

If your head tells you one thing, and your heart tells you another, before you do anything, you should first decide whether you have a better head or a better heart.

Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling.

When you have birds you stare at them a lot and their eyes are recessed on their head. When they look at something they tilt their head in a quizzical expression.

Even though I enjoy that head-to-head competition part, one of the things that drove me to long track was if I won or if I lost I want to know it's all on my shoulders and it didn't have anything to do with anybody else.

I'm thinking about anything and everything. I'm making stuff up in my head, I'm using sense memory. Sometimes when it doesn't come and you've got no choice because you're getting paid to do it, you grasp at straws. It's always easy now with my kids. I just create some "what-ifs" in my head, something horrible that would devastate me as a mother.

I don’t like to badmouth people. But I’m the head of a monarchy that began in the ninth century, and I’m apparently more modern than Chris Christie. Look, I know he has to appeal to the crazy right-wingers in his party, but the fact is, he’s not as forward-thinking as an eighty-seven-year-old lady who wears a crown on her head. It’s pathetic.

My head's never really quiet. The only time I can get it to turn off is if I watch 'CSI' or 'Law & Order,' where I have to follow the crime. If I can't turn my head off during that, I know I've really got a problem.

Is instinct in the head or in the heart? Off the field, I follow my good instincts which steer me in the right direction. Sometimes on the field my head leads me astray. That's what I believe.

The ability to walk in someone else's shoes, or in my case, play down in someone else's cleats is one of the very best things you can do. There's nobody in this world who doesn't have that voice in their head. Sometimes it's the best voice in the world, and it pumps you up, but sometimes the voice is down. I wanted my players to be able to hear my voice in their head instead of someone else's because I knew that was a narrative I could control.

We need saints; we need this head - this talking head - to communicate. Every single religion you have people that go in-between, that can talk to god or communicate ideas. Then there are the talking heads in the news every time we watch TV. No matter how complex, you still need a person there to tell you what happened: a storyteller of sorts. I find that fascinating that we feel so attached to this primitive mode of connection, this primitive interface to the world.

Until this moment, she’d kept Park in a place in her head that she thought Richie couldn't get to. Completely separate from this house and everything that happened here. (It was a pretty awesome place. Like the only part of her head fit for praying.)

It was a great time. We did hurt ourselves [on Pineapple Express set]. [James] Franco cracked his face open.[Danny ] McBride cracked the back of his head open. I punched Amber[Heard] in the face just to get her in the mood for things. 'Welcome to the set!' But it was a lot of fun. I loved it.

Despite being what would now be called a deprived child in a one parent family, I did not grow up with an urge to smash windows or to bash old ladies over the head in order to steal handbags.

What passes for culture in my head is really a bunch of commercials.

I always keep my head down, working, doing things, moving forward. That's what I've done all my life. Then you stop and realize what you've done.