Saul Bellow Quotes

No one has taken my heart in their hand. I haven't given it... I have lent myself, rented myself out, but never given myself.

Come on, is your heart a sponge or a fist?

It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world.

Fear destroys intimacy. It distances us from each other; or makes us cling to each other, which is the death of freedom.... Only love can create intimacy, and freedom too, for when all hearts are one, nothing else has to be one--neither clothes nor age; neither sex nor sexual preference; race nor mind-set.

I know my mind is made of matter but I need to know exactly what is the matter at it's core? Because my heart is just a muscle and simply put, it's sore.

The humble live in continuous peace, while in the hearts of the proud are envy and frequent anger.

When the heart is full it runs out of the eyes.

If your heart is full of fear, you won't seek truth; you'll seek security. If a heart is full of love, it will have a limbering effect on the mind.

As the heart is, so is love to the heart. It partakes of its strength or weakness, its health or disease.

I said to Heart, "How goes it?" Heart replied: "Right as a Ribstone Pippin!" But it lied.

And if my mind breaks up In all so many ways I know the meaning of The words, "I love you

You're frozen when your heart's not open.

But I think, personally, that it would be worse to have been alone all that time. Sure, maybe I would have protected my heart from some things, but would that really have been better? To hold myself apart because I was too scared that something might no be forever?

The human mind is never better disposed to gratitude and attachment than when softened by fear.

She really was pretty, for a grown-up person, but when you are seven, beauty is an abstraction, not an imperative. I wonder what I would have done if she had smiled at me like that now: whether I would have handed my mind or my heart or my identify to her for the asking, as my father did.

Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage.

You mustnt give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get.

A complaining tongue reveals an ungrateful heart.

Some people pretend they never were in love and never wrote poetry; two weaknesses which they dare not own -- one of the heart, the other of the mind.

Love opens my chest, and thought returns to its confines.

My love though silly is more brave.

The word surrender sounds horrible to one who wants to enjoy his senses but very sweet to one who has a humble heart.

The heart yields spontaneity; the mind bends to understanding.

But my heart is always propped up in a field on its tripod, ready for the next arrow.

The chances we take, knowing no better than to fall or to stand back and hold ourselves in... protecting our hearts with the tightest of grips.