The heart is the only broken instrument that works.

[A] final comfort that is small, but not cold: The heart is the only broken instrument that works.

Rarely has a people paid the lavish compliment and taken the subtle revenge of turning its oppressor's speech into sorcery.

He sometimes ran a purple ribbon through his typewriter and gushed where he should have dammed.

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows.Here is the root of the root and the bud of the budAnd the sky of the sky of a tree called life;Which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide.And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart.I carry your heart.I carry it in my heart.

They go forth with well-developed bodies, fairly developed minds and undeveloped hearts. An undeveloped heart-not a cold one. The difference is important.