A Quote by Kiersten White

I can't seem to keep my heart from leaking out of the cracks, like sand clutched in a fist. — © Kiersten White
I can't seem to keep my heart from leaking out of the cracks, like sand clutched in a fist.
You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.”
On a daily basis I'm covering things that are leaking out of the White House and leaking out what should be closed-door meetings on the Hill. That is not integrity.
The competitive spirit of basketball is slowly leaking out. Taking pride in one-on-one defense is slowly leaking out. It's more about selling calls and flopping.
Your heart is the size of your fist; keep loving, keep fighting.
There's always a place for the angry young man with his fist in the air and his head in the sand. He's never been able to learn from mistakes, he can't understand why his heart always breaks.
Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.
The torments of hell abide for ever.... If all the earth and sea were sand, and every thousandth year a bird should come, and take away one grain of this sand, it would be a long time ere that vast heap of sand were emptied; yet, if after all that time the damned may come out of hell, there were some hope; but this word EVER breaks the heart.
See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.
My heart is ripped open, shredded, leaking blood. I can't let him leave like this. We've been through to much to turn into strangers.
In 1971, after seven years in college, with that magic piece of paper clutched triumphantly in my fist, the best job I was able to get was night watchman on a sewer project in Babylon, N.Y. guarding a hole in the ground to prevent anyone from stealing it. God bless the American educational system!
Failure is a state of mind. It's like one of those sand traps an ant lion digs. You keep sliding back. Takes one hell of a jump to get out of it.
Subtly, in the little ways, joy has been leaking out of our lives. The small pleasures of the ordinary day seem almost contemptible, and glance off us lightly...Perhaps it's a good time to reconsider pleasure at its roots. Changing out of wet shoes and socks, for instance. Bathrobes. Yawning and stretching. Real tomatoes.
On the day I swore to uphold the Hippocratic oath, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I waited for lightning to strike. Who was I, vowing calmly among all these necktied young men to steal life out of nature's jaws, every old time we got half a chance and a paycheck?... I could not accept the contract: that every child born human upon this earth comes with a guarantee of perfect health and old age clutched in its small fist.
Information is a lot like water; it's hard to hold on to, and hard to keep from leaking away.
He was an amazing father. I clutched my memories of him to my heart for so long, but he's a part of the world.
That old feeling is still in my leaking heart.
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