A Quote by Stephen A. Smith

Heart means something, especially in Gotham City, where the only thing worse than a scrub is someone devoid of that thumping sound inside the chest. — © Stephen A. Smith
Heart means something, especially in Gotham City, where the only thing worse than a scrub is someone devoid of that thumping sound inside the chest.
The only thing left that shows I was a heart patient is I have a scar down the middle of my chest where they went in three times to do open heart surgery. I have a brand new heart inside, and all the mechanical and electronic gear and so forth is all gone.
I ask myself what is the sound of women? What is the word for that still thing I have hunted inside them for so long? Deep inside the avalanche of joy, the thing deeper in the dark, and deeper still in the bed where we are lost. Deeper, deeper down where a woman's heart is holding its breath, where something very far away in that body is becoming something we don't have a name for.
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.
The idea of a spiritual heart transplant is a vivid image to me; once you have the heart of somebody else inside you, then that heart is there. Jesus' heart is inside me, and my heart is gone. So if God were to place a stethoscope against my chest, he would hear the heart of Jesus Christ beating.
I laugh maniacally, then take a deep breath and touch my chest- expecting a heart to be thumping quickly, impatiently, but there's nothing there, not even a beat.
Tess, Tess, Tessa. Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn’t it—a heart ringing? But when you touch me, that is what it is like, as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy.
The wolf stared down at me, paws still on my chest, its shaggy tail thumping from side tot side and spraying us both with snow. It seemed like...it expected me to do something. Maybe my mind was completley gone, because there was only one thing I could thing of right now that might satisfy it. I reached up en awkwardly patted the side of its head, since that was al i could reach. "Nice puppy," I whispered, and passed out.
In foreign policy, the only thing worse than not doing something is doing something that fails or makes the situation worse.
As a songwriter I hate this whole, 'If it's a sad song, it has to sound like a sad song thing.' And that goes all the way back to my days with the Format. I'm an insane narcissist, so if I have to get something off my chest, I'll get something off my chest.
The heart is that which lies at the centre of things, and is also formless. It is simple awareness devoid of movement to and fro, of past and future, within and without, merit and harm. Wherever the centre of a thing lies, there lies its heart, for the word 'heart' means centrality.
I felt like someone had ripped my heart out and tossed it across the other side of the room. There was a burning, agonizing pain in my chest, and I had no idea how it could ever be filled. It was one thing to accept that I couldn't have Dimitri. It was something entirely different to realize someone else could.
He tapped my chest. 'Happy is here.' He tapped his own chest. 'Here.' I looked down past my chin. 'Inside?' 'Inside.' It was getting crowded in there. First angel. Now happy. It seemed there was more to me than cabbage and turnips.
The only thing worse than a loser is someone who won't admit he played badly.
Genesis means the beginning. But I put the A instead of the E because I didn't wanna be criticized in church and nothing like that. And it means the beginning, but in my city, I'm the only person that's on the West Coast that has a different sound, so I was thinking to myself, 'This the beginning of a new sound, a new person.'
I’m pretty certain my worthless heart shatters inside my chest, and she steals one of the pieces. If it didn’t already belong to someone else I probably would have handed her all the pieces right then and there.
For one who is indifferent, life itself is a prison. Any sense of community is external or, even worse, nonexistent. Thus, indifference means solitude. Those who are indifferent do not see others. They feel nothing for others and are unconcerned with what might happen to them. They are surrounded by a great emptiness. Filled by it, in fact. They are devoid of all hope as well as imagination. In other words, devoid of any future.
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