Frank Crane

"The human heart is a band playing in a park at a distance; we see the crowds listening, but we catch but fragments of the music now and again, and cannot make out the tune."

"The human heart is a meadow full of fireflies, a summer western sky of shimmering distant lightnings, a shore set round with flashing lighthouses, far-away voices calling that we cannot understand."

"The human heart is a wide moor under a dull sky, with voices of invisible birds calling in the distance."

"Bend close! You will smell the lily fragrance of love, the stench of lust, now odors as exquisite as the very spirit of violets, and now such nauseous repulsions as words cannot tell."

"The human heart is a garden, wherein grow weeds of memory and blooms of hope, and the snow falls at last and covers all."

"The human heart is a roaring forge where night and day the smiths are busy fashioning swords and silver cups, mitres and engine-wheels, the tools of *labor, and the gauds of precedence."

"How to be a good fellow without being a fool."

"The human heart is an undiscovered country; men and women are forever perishing as they explore its wilds."