Imprint On Your Heart Quotes

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's no getting over that.

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's not getting over that.

… What about the main thing in life, all its riddles? If you want, I'll spell it out for you right now. Do not pursue what is illusionary -property and position: all that is gained at the expense of your nerves decade after decade, and is confiscated in one fell night. Live with a steady superiority over life -don't be afraid of misfortune, and do not yearn for happiness; it is, after all, all the same: the bitter doesn't last forever, and the sweet never fills the cup to overflowing. It is enough if you don't freeze in the cold and if thirst and hunger don't claw at your insides. If your back isn't broken, if your feet can walk, if both arms can bend, if both eyes can see, if both ears hear, then whom should you envy? And why? Our envy of others devours us most of all. Rub your eyes and purify your heart -and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well. Do not hurt them or scold them, and never part from any of them in anger; after all, you simply do not know: it may be your last act before your arrest, and that will be how you are imprinted on their memory.

the important people in our lives leave imprints. they may die or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart

That's because you're interpreting it the wrong way. I didn't mean it as a wistful, overdramatic declaration. I mean that the love I felt for him was huge and real, and, while painful, it forever changed me as a person, in the same way that being your brother reflects and changes how I evolve, and vice versa. The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's no getting over that.

God the Grand Weaver seeks those with tender hearts so that he can put his imprint on them. Your hurts and your disappointments are part of that design, to shape your heart and the way you feel about reality. The hurts you live through will always shape you. There is no other way.

I want all of you. Your mind, your soul, and most importantly your heart. I want every breath you take to be for me. I want to imprint myself into your skin so you’ll crave me like a drug and never want to be without me.

Early on I realized that I had to hire people smarter and ore qualified than I was in a number of different fields, and I had to let go of a lot of decision-making. I can't tell you how hard that is. But if you've imprinted your values on the people around you, you can dare to trust them to make the right moves.

I love you, I love you, my heart is a rose which your love has brought to bloom, my life is a desert fanned by the delicious breeze of your breath, and whose cool spring are your eyes; the imprint of your little feet makes valleys of shade for me, the odour of your hair is like myrrh, and wherever you go you exhale the perfumes of the cassia tree. Love me always, love me always. You have been the supreme, the perfect love of my life; there can be no other...

Let Love Move You... If you can’t stop thinking of her, it’s because her essence has left an imprint on your heart… on your soul... Don’t be afraid of this feeling; be nourished by it... Let it stir your entire being… Let it help release your greatest self... Let it inspire you to be loving… to be respectful… to be romantic… to be intelligent… to be passionate… to be a good listener… to be appreciative… Let this wonderful feeling move you to become a passionate love maker… a ravenous seducer... Do not be afraid of this deep love! Let it reveal the best of you… Let this feeling encourage you to behave in an honest and sincere manner… So that you may be more than a person she would settle for… so that you may be a person she would yearn for.

You know what my heart is—no, my soul? It’s like an old mattress that’s been bounced on so many times that now, if you put your hand on it, it leaves a permanent imprint. That’s what my soul is now. Just a big old mattress showing every dent.

Thousands of individuals unknowingly contribute to the creation of our lives. Over the years, these serendipitous exchanges made imprints on my mind and heart and served as catalysts for my ongoing growth and development.

He had lived without her before. He could get over it! In a year or so he'd be able to walk straight past her without his heart so much as missing a beat. He needed her as much as a drunk needs a cork! But he understood all too quickly how vain these thoughts were. How can you tear something out of your heart? Your heart isn't made out of paper and your life isn't written down in ink. You can't erase the imprint of years.

That's because you're interpretting it the wrong way. I don't mean it as a wistful, overdramatic declaration. I meant that the love I felt for him was huge and real, and, while painful, it forever changed me as a person, in the same way that being your brother reflects and changed how I evolve, and vice versa. The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's no getting over that.

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There’s no getting over that.

As king, your desires must be stronger than any other. You must be more magnificent, more easily angered than everyone else! He should be both pure and chaotic, a man who was more real than any other man. Only through this could your subjects be impressed by their king, and only through this would the message ‘if I was king, such would be my wonder’ be imprinted upon their hearts.

Your heart, mind, hands and feet are stamped with the imprint of the Creator. Little wonder that the Devil wants you to be ashamed of your body.

That’s something in you, something in your guts and soul, imprinted on you, something written on your heart from that first touch that doesn’t go away.

How can you tear something out of your heart? Your heart isn't made of paper and your life isn't written down in ink. You can't erase the imprint of years.

Mitchell Maxwell’s Maxims • You have to create your own professional path. There’s no longer a roadmap for an artistic career. • Follow your heart and the money will follow. • Create a benchmark of your own progress. If you never look down while you’re climbing the ladder you won’t know how far you’ve come. • Don’t define success by net worth, define it by character. Success, as it’s measured by society, is a fleeting condition. • Affirm your value. Tell the world “I am an artist,” not “I want to be an artist.” • You must actively live your dream. Wishing and hoping for someday doesn’t make it happen. Get out there and get involved. • When you look into the abyss you find your character. • Young people too often let the fear of failure keep them from trying. You have to get bloody, sweaty and rejected in order to succeed. • Get your face out of Facebook and into somebody’s face. Close your e-mail and pick up the phone. Personal contact still speaks loudest. • No one is entitled to act entitled. Be willing to work hard. • If you’re going to buck the norm you’re going to have to embrace the challenges. • You have to love the journey if you’re going to work in the arts. • Only listen to people who agree with your vision. • A little anxiety is good but don’t let it become fear, fear makes you inert. • Find your own unique voice. Leave your individual imprint on the world, not a copy of someone else. • Draw strength from your mistakes; they can be your best teacher.

FOR THE DYING May death come gently toward you, Leaving you time to make your way Through the cold embrace of fear To the place of inner tranquillity. May death arrive only after a long life To find you at home among your own With every comfort and care you require. May your leave-taking be gracious, Enabling you to hold dignity Through awkwardness and illness. May you see the reflection Of your life’s kindness and beauty In all the tears that fall for you. As your eyes focus on each face, May your soul take its imprint, Drawing each image within As companions for the journey. May you find for each one you love A different locket of jeweled words To be worn around the heart To warm your absence. May someone who knows and loves The complex village of your heart Be there to echo you back to yourself And create a sure word-raft To carry you to the further shore. May your spirit feel The surge of true delight When the veil of the visible Is raised, and you glimpse again The living faces Of departed family and friends. May there be some beautiful surprise Waiting for you inside death, Something you never knew or felt, Which with one simple touch, Absolves you of all loneliness and loss, As you quicken within the embrace For which your soul was eternally made. May your heart be speechless At the sight of the truth Of all belief had hoped, Your heart breathless In the light and lightness Where each and everything Is at last its true self Within that serene belonging That dwells beside us On the other side Of what we see.

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart.

I live not with the intent of leaving my mark in this world, but rather with the intent of leaving my imprint on your heart

Sometimes you have to feel the pain for a while; let it make an imprint on your heart, scar you a little. This is the only way we learn.

Are you ruled by a heart that foolishly imprinted on the wrong man? Like most humans, are you incapable of change? Change requires an admission of error. Your race devotes itself to justifying its errors, not correcting them.” “My heart hasn’t imprinted on anyone.” “Good. Then it may yet be mine.

The flowers have already bloomed to their most beautiful and luxuriant form; if they bloom even longer, they will only start withering away. Sending them off on their journey now will leave their most perfect image imprinted in your heart. Isn’t that a good thing?” His five fingers closed into a fist, and the piece of fallen leaf in his hand was immediately pulverized into a fine powder, rustling as it fell from his fingers. “In this world, if one cannot live vigorously and freely in accordance to their own desires and inclinations, then what is the point? Humans are not that different from flowers.

she's got her daddy's blue eyes and her mama's pretty lips, and she'll stay on your mind with a sugar-sweet kiss, that southern girl with her wild soul will leave an imprint on your heart and make somewhere in tennessee feel something like home

she's got her daddy's eyes and her mama's pretty lips, and she'll stay on your mind with a sugar-sweet kiss, that southern girl with her wild soul will leave an imprint on your heart and make under those southern sunsets feel like somewhere you belong

His arms surround me like a nice, yellow house. A warm house, a safe house, probably in the suburbs with a white picket fence. But your arms; they were a home. A home with an old soul (maybe a lake house in the fall) with a wood stove and kitchenette and a murphy bed imprinted with bodies shaped like ours. Granted, there were a few leaks here and there, and the wind got in at night, but I don’t remember ever feeling cold. My head wants the house, but no matter how I try, my heart just wants to go home. The heart wants what it wants

In a sense, you're also a sculptor fashioning the other party. The words and looks you use are the tools that leave imprints. Nurturing words shape the heart. As you allow the holy spirit to rework and refashion your beliefs about yourself, drawing closer to Christ's image, your skills as a potter or sculptor will be refined.

Core Wound: Like most protective selves, the avoidant wound seems to be largely based around a wound of rejection—specifically, any kind of humiliation or ridicule. These are shame-based experiences that can leave long-lasting imprints. While you may long for meaningful human contact deep down, the protective self is too afraid to experience genuine emotions. It worries that expressing emotions (especially negative ones) will cause you to seem crazy and be judged by others, pushing them away.

Should everything pass away, it couldn’t happen without You. This heart of mines bears Your imprint; it has nowhere else to turn. The eye of the intellect is drunk with You, the wheeling galaxy is humble before You, the ear of ecstasy is in Your hand; nothing happens without You. The soul is bubbling with You, the heart imbibes from You, the intellect bellows in rapture; nothing happens without You. You, my grape wine and my intoxication, my rose garden and my springtime, my sleep and repose; nothing happens without You. You are my grandeur and glory, you are my possessions and prosperity, you are my purest water; nothing happens without You

Your unconditional love made an everlasting imprint on my heart & life forever.

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always in your heart.

My hope is that after you read Imprinted Wisdom, you will be able to see your blessings, to count more of them that you already have. Realize your thoughts touch holy ground. Action with compassion for others will heal all your sorrow. And prayer will lift your veil of tears. Give more of everything than you take. Know that the true spirit of God lies within your heart.

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's not getting over that.

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There’s no getting over that.

Being loved by Blake isn’t something you can describe. You just feel it settle into your bones, taking shelter in your heart. She leaves an imprint on your life. She makes you want to be a better person.

...The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's no getting over that.

The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There’s no getting over that.” My

And you just had to rush right over here to rub my face in it." "Nope. I rushed right over here to slap your face in it." "A rude but effective wake-up call," Laura commented and earned a shocked stare. "I expected better from you." "You shouldn't have." Hands brisk and competent, she affixed a shiny silver bow to the box. "If you don't want to tell us what happened between you and Josh,fine.But you can't expect us to sit around quietly while you mope." "I have not been moping." "We've been cleaning up the blood spilling out of your heart for weeks." Kate passed Laura her credit card. "Face it,pal, you're just no fun anymore." "And that's all this friendship is about?Fun? I thought I might get a little support,a little sympathy, a little compassion." "Sorry," Laura imprinted the card with a steady sweep. "Fresh out.

It is okay to long for days past. It is natural to feel the imprint of what was, for all you lost is still a part of you. These memories carve their way into your heart, and you do not know how to recover its original form. And even when you try, you cannot shake the old feelings, her words, those photographs . . . but now, even here, after all of these years, you are free to remember, while also moving onward on this path, filled with Light, even if your earliest steps are small.

That's because you're interpreting it the wrong way. I don't mean it as a wistful, overdramatic declaration. I meant that the love I felt for him was huge and real, and, while painful, it forever changed me as a person, in the same way that being your brother reflects and changes how I evolve, and vice versa. The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's no getting over that.

In some ways, I think I'll never be over him', Langston said. 'That is such an unsatisfied answer' 'That's because you're interpreting it the wrong way. I don't mean it as a wistful, overdramatic declaration. I meant that the love I felt for him was huge and real, and, while painful, it forever changed me as a person, in the same way that being your brother reflects and changes how I evolve, and vice versa. The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There's no getting over that

They dream of the happiness of stretching out one's legs and of the relief one feels after going to the toilet. In Orotukan the earth thaws only in the summer and only to the depth of three feet—and only then can they bury the bones of those who died during the winter. And you have the right to arrange your own life under the blue sky and the hot sun, to get a drink of water, to stretch, to travel wherever you like without a convoy [escort]. So what's this about unwiped feet? And what's this about a mother-in-law? What about the main thing in life, all its riddles? If you want, I'll spell it out for you right now. Do not pursue what is illusory—property and position: all that is gained at the expense of your nerves decade after decade, and is confiscated in one fell night. Live with a steady superiority over life—don't be afraid of misfortune, and do not yearn after happiness; it is, after all, all the same: the bitter doesn't last forever, and the sweet never fills the cup to overflowing. It is enough if you don't freeze in the cold and if thirst and hunger don't claw at your insides. If your back isn't broken, if your feet can walk, if both arms can bend, if both eyes see, if both ears hear, then whom should you envy? And why? Our envy of others devours us most of all. Rub your eyes and purify your heart—and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well. Do not hurt them or scold them, and never part from any of them in anger; after all, you simply do not know: it may be your last act before your arrest, and that will be how you are imprinted in their memory!

Are you over him?” I asked. We both knew the him I referred to was not Benny, but the him who broke Langston’s heart so devastatingly. Langston’s first love. “In some ways, I think I’ll never be over him,” Langston said. “That is such an unsatisfying answer.” “That’s because you’re interpreting it the wrong way. I don’t mean it as a wistful, overdramatic declaration. I meant that the love I felt for him was huge and real, and, while painful, it forever changed me as a person, in the same way that being your brother reflects and changes how I evolve, and vice versa. The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There’s no getting over that.” My

CYRANO: Thy name is in my heart as in a sheep-bell, And as I ever tremble, thinking of thee, Ever the bell shakes, ever thy name ringeth! All things of thine I mind, for I love all things; I know that last year on the twelfth of May-month, To walk abroad, one day you changed your hair-plaits! I am so used to take your hair for daylight That,--like as when the eye stares on the sun's disk, One sees long after a red blot on all things-- So, when I quit thy beams, my dazzled vision Sees upon all things a blonde stain imprinted. ROXANE (agitated): Why, this is love indeed!. . . CYRANO: Ay, true, the feeling Which fills me, terrible and jealous, truly Love,--which is ever sad amid its transports! Love,--and yet, strangely, not a selfish passion! I for your joy would gladly lay mine own down, --E'en though you never were to know it,--never! --If but at times I might--far off and lonely,-- Hear some gay echo of the joy I bought you! Each glance of thine awakes in me a virtue,-- A novel, unknown valor. Dost begin, sweet, To understand? So late, dost understand me? Feel'st thou my soul, here, through the darkness mounting? Too fair the night! Too fair, too fair the moment! That I should speak thus, and that you should hearken! Too fair! In moments when my hopes rose proudest, I never hoped such guerdon. Naught is left me But to die now! Have words of mine the power To make you tremble,--throned there in the branches? Ay, like a leaf among the leaves, you tremble! You tremble! For I feel,--an if you will it, Or will it not,--your hand's beloved trembling Thrill through the branches, down your sprays of jasmine! (He kisses passionately one of the hanging tendrils.) ROXANE: Ay! I am trembling, weeping!--I am thine! Thou hast conquered all of me! --Cyrano de Bergerac III. 7

Please, let him be soft. I know you made him with gunmetal bones and wolf’s teeth. I know you made him to be a warrior a soldier a hero. But even gunmetal can warp and even wolf’s teeth can dull and I do not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do. I do not want to see him go up in flames the way all heroes end up martyrs. I know that you will tell me that the world needs him. The world needs his heart and his faith and his courage and his strength and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his– The world needs anything he will give them. Damn the world, and damn you too. Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him, damn anyone that ever took anything from him, damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. You know that he will give them everything until there is nothing left of him but the imprint of dust where his feet once trod. You know that he will bear the world like Atlas until his shoulders collapse and his knees buckle and he is crushed by all he used to carry. Dear God, you have already made an Atlas. You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules. You have already made a sacrificial lamb of your Son. You have already made so many heroes, and you can make another again. You can have your pick of heroes. So please, I beg you– he is all that I have, and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more. Let him be soft, and let him be mine.

That’s because you’re interpreting it the wrong way. I don’t mean it as a wistful, overdramatic declaration. I meant that the love I felt for him was huge and real, and, while painful, it forever changed me as a person, in the same way that being your brother reflects and changes how I evolve, and vice versa. The important people in our lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart. There’s no getting over that.

You love wealth and money not because it is a good thing in itself, but because it seems to be of service to your life’s enjoyment. So no matter how good God is, you do not love him unless you think that he is useful to you and your plans. Consequently, if you loved God in this way—with an eye to your own advantage—you would be affecting a servile love, and in your perverse and corrupt natural affection you would clearly be sinning. But never do you love even to this extent. For we never sense the benefits of God unless our heart has already been purified through the Holy Spirit and God’s kindness has been imprinted on a pure and pious heart.

The Kali-Yuga happens to people you love. You see the inner shape, the real one, when they’re just walking away across the room with their backs to you, you see their secret faces when they’re alone, and you see that they’re trudging, their shoulders hunched and rounded under the burden, their faces baffled and bewildered, almost muttering, but still defiant, still determined, because they’re human, and their demand, their consciousness of birthright, is ineffaceable, ineradicable. The divine imprint. His image. And you think they haven’t got a chance, but then again you can’t really know. God alone knows their fate. It happens to the people you love. That’s what breaks your heart. Breaks your heart.

What about the main thing in life, all its riddles? If you want, I’ll spell it out for you right now. Do not pursue what is illusory—property and position: all that is gained at the expense of your nerves decade after decade, and is confiscated in one fell night. Live with a steady superiority over life—don’t be afraid of misfortune, and do not yearn after happiness; it is, after all, all the same: the bitter doesn’t last forever, and the sweet never fills the cup to overflowing. It is enough if you don’t freeze in the cold and if thirst and hunger don’t claw at your insides. If your back isn’t broken, if your feet can walk, if both arms can bend, if both eyes see, and if both ears hear, then whom should you envy? And why? Our envy of others devours us most of all. Rub your eyes and purify your heart—and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well. Do not hurt them or scold them, and never part from any of them in anger; after all, you simply do not know: it might be your last act before your arrest, and that will be how you are imprinted in their memory! But the convoy guards stroke the black handles of the pistols in their pockets. And we sit there, three in a row, sober fellows, quiet friends.

What makes you come alive? What keeps you going ? Is there hope in your heart still or has the weariness of the world attached itself to you like a limpet leaving you afraid and passionless? Do you wake up with a smile and stars in your eyes after restless, feverish soul-searching in the night? Do you dream, dream beyond what is possible and beyond the narrow confines of your jaded existence? How old do you feel? How much in love can you fall? How much step is there in your dance, o how many notes left in your song ? Have you decided to sit by and watch others dance or weep at the dying notes of your own swan song? Shake your lethargy. Come alive to innocence once more. Believe past your own jaded cynicism. Pretend you are young once more. Jump up with a spring in your feet, fall breathlessly in love again. Let the colors of the world wash over your walls, brushing the greys away. Let the sunlight of hope flood through your doubting self, o let the music play. Dance till you ache and drop, laugh till you cry. Sing till your lungs burst, and journey till the very road ends and dream by the moonless starless nights. Sleep with a secret smile on your lips, your body flush with the imprints of lips. Come alive, my dearest ...reclaim yourself from the living dead. Life beckons

If loneliness or sadness or happiness could be expressed through food, loneliness would be basil. It’s not good for your stomach, dims your eyes, and turns your mind murky. If you pound basil and place a stone over it, scorpions swarm toward it. Happiness is saffron, from the crocus that blooms in the spring. Even if you add just a pinch to a dish, it adds an intense taste and a lingering scent. You can find it anywhere but you can’t get it at any time of the year. It’s good for your heart, and if you drop a little bit in your wine, you instantly become drunk from its heady perfume. The best saffron crumbles at the touch and instantaneously emits its fragrance. Sadness is a knobby cucumber, whose aroma you can detect from far away. It’s tough and hard to digest and makes you fall ill with a high fever. It’s porous, excellent at absorption, and sponges up spices, guaranteeing a lengthy period of preservation. Pickles are the best food you can make from cucumbers. You boil vinegar and pour it over the cucumbers, then season with salt and pepper. You enclose them in a sterilized glass jar, seal it, and store it in a dark and dry place. WON’S KITCHEN. I take off the sign hanging by the first-floor entryway. He designed it by hand and silk-screened it onto a metal plate. Early in the morning on the day of the opening party for the cooking school, he had me hang the sign myself. I was meaning to give it a really special name, he said, grinning, flashing his white teeth, but I thought Jeong Ji-won was the most special name in the world. He called my name again: Hey, Ji-won. He walked around the house calling my name over and over, mischievously — as if he were an Eskimo who believed that the soul became imprinted in the name when it was called — while I fried an egg, cautiously sprinkling grated Emmentaler, salt, pepper, taking care not to pop the yolk. I spread the white sun-dried tablecloth on the coffee table and set it with the fried egg, unsalted butter, blueberry jam, and a baguette I’d toasted in the oven. It was our favorite breakfast: simple, warm, sweet. As was his habit, he spread a thick layer of butter and jam on his baguette and dunked it into his coffee, and I plunked into my cup the teaspoon laced with jam, waiting for the sticky sweetness to melt into the hot, dark coffee. I still remember the sugary jam infusing the last drop of coffee and the moist crumbs of the baguette lingering at the roof of my mouth. And also his words, informing me that he wanted to design a new house that would contain the cooking school, his office, and our bedroom. Instead of replying, I picked up a firm red radish, sparkling with droplets of water, dabbed a little butter on it, dipped it in salt, and stuck it into my mouth. A crunch resonated from my mouth. Hoping the crunch sounded like, Yes, someday, I continued to eat it. Was that the reason I equated a fresh red radish with sprouting green tops, as small as a miniature apple, with the taste of love? But if I cut into it crosswise like an apple, I wouldn't find the constellation of seeds.

The important people in your lives leave imprints. They may stay or go in the physical realm, but they are always there in your heart, because they helped form your heart.

I was going to say, let alone that I might find a mate.” Vic’s heart swelled, and in that moment, he knew his feelings weren’t simply a case of misplaced lust, that Kellan meant something to him, that he had been led to Vale Valley for more than sanctuary. They might not be able to have a family since they couldn’t possibly be fated mates, but that was all right. They’d still have each other. “Kellan, have you ever been kissed?” Kellan blinked up at him as he shook his head. Vic framed Kellan’s face with his hands. “Then I think we should do something about that.” He held Kellan’s gaze for a moment before descending on him, capturing Kellan’s lips with his own, moving them over Kellan’s mouth. He kept his touch slow and gentle, imprinting the memory of their first kiss to hold dear in his heart forever. Kellan melted against his frame and kissed him back, his technique clumsy, but earnest. As their exchange heated, Vic wrapped one hand around Kellan’s nape and grasped his waist with the other. Kellan opened up to him and Vic dipped his tongue into Kellan’s willing mouth, tasting and exploring as much of the sweet man as he could. Vic slowed the kiss before they got too carried away, still mindful of not overwhelming him. When he broke the connection, he framed Kellan’s face again and pressed his lips to Kellan’s forehead to seal his intent. They stared into each other’s eyes in silence as they caught their breath again. Kellan curled his fingers in the fabric of Vic’s flannel shirt, clutching it as if he were scared Vic might run away. “That was… I don’t know how to describe it. Why do you taste so good?” He shivered. “I feel strange, like I’m about to burst out of my skin.” Vic rubbed Kellan’s back, trying to soothe him. “You’ve been through so much in the past twenty-four hours and you’ve just been kissed for the first time.” Vic smiled. “You’re bound to feel on edge.

Well, I’ll be.” His eyes shone. He took her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a smart one.” Faith stepped backward, the imprint of his lips warm on her skin. She stared at him with widened eyes. He stared back, a flush climbing his cheeks. The scar on his neck pulsed red. “Forgive me. I had no right.” She

Higher emotion equals higher energy. When you become angry you sweat, you stammer your words, and your skin gets hot. Now imagine the vortex of emotions when there’s a murder, rape, or traumatic death. All those emotions now become supercharged. It’s like running the RPMs in a race car into the red zone. It doesn’t have to be the last emotions before death either. The extreme loneliness and depression of a broken heart can put your emotions in the red zone also. An inmate at Ohio State Reformatory set himself on fire in his cell. That was a supercharged emotional event like no other. I believe that the atmosphere becomes imprinted with that severe energy and it becomes ripe for residual hauntings. That’s why you hear screams in haunted places from the supercharged emotional state.

Ways To Break This Southern Girl’s Heart after Diane Lato's “Easy Ways To Break My Heart” – give her unsweetened tea. there are no two more terrible words to a southern girl when put together – tell her you're an alabama fan. you've gotta know that she's gonna bleed volunteer orange ‘til the end no matter – tell her you don't like the mountains. her heart has east tennessee sunrises imprinted on it… and she wants to show you every sunlit, treelined, starkissed view – turn down the volume when ‘country girl' by ray lamontagne comes on. papa used to play it for her on the porch, and she's gotta hear every bit of it, every time – you wanna really crush her heart? then ask to meet her daddy. because he isn't in her heart anymore. he was the first one who broke it, and in too many ways, long ago – and if you wanna just completely shatter her into pieces… then try to give her an ordinary love. because she needs love like wildfire. like forever-fire. until every last southern sun sets. till the stars burn out. and to know her heart is finally safe… with you …she needs to know that breaking her heart is the very last thing you would ever want to do.

Ways To Break This Southern Girl’s Heart after Diane Lato's "Easy Ways To Break My Heart" - give her unsweetened tea. there are no two more terrible words to a southern girl when put together - tell her you're an alabama fan. you've gotta know that she's gonna bleed volunteer orange ‘til the end no matter - tell her you don't like the mountains. her heart has east tennessee sunrises imprinted on it... and she wants to show you every sunlit, treelined, starkissed view - turn down the volume when 'country girl' by ray lamontagne comes on. papa used to play it for her on the porch, and she's gotta hear every bit of it, every time - you wanna really crush her heart? then ask to meet her daddy. because he isn't in her heart anymore. he was the first one who broke it, and in too many ways, long ago - and if you wanna just completely shatter her into pieces... then try to give her an ordinary love. because she needs love like wildfire. like forever-fire. until every last southern sun sets. till the stars burn out. and until her heart is finally safe... with you ...she needs to know that breaking her heart is the very last thing you would ever want to do.

It’s Fae on Fae, man, what are you thinking?” he asked with a frown and I could only glower as I looked back to the fight, forcing myself to remain still. It might have made me ache to hold back but he was right, I couldn’t get involved in a fight between two Fae. And if it had been anyone else, I never would have considered it. But Roxy always made me want to break the rules. “You jumped up, crown touting, cock sucking, whore!” Mildred slammed her fist into Roxy’s face again, not even bothering to use magic as she screamed insults in her face which included way too many references to me being her beloved. “What’s the matter, Mildred?” Roxy snarled. “Is it just that you can’t suck cock properly with that mis-matched jaw of yours or is it that you know Darius is only marrying you because his father is forcing him to?” “When I take my beloved to the bedroom he will be screaming so loudly that he won’t even remember the name Vega!” Mildred howled as she punched Roxy again. “Yeah, screaming in horror,” Roxy spat and I almost fucking laughed aside from the fact that she was about to get her face smashed in by that beast of a girl. “We’ll see if he’s so tempted by you when I’m done pulverising that pretty face of yours and I cut your perky tits off for good measure!” Mildred howled. “Not the tits!” Tyler Corbin gasped from the other side of the crowd as he filmed the whole thing. My heart pounded. Roxy might have been tough, but Mildred was four times the size of her. She needed to fight back with magic if she was going to stand a chance, but as she swung her head forward and cracked the bridge of Mildred’s nose with a savage headbutt, I got the feeling she wasn’t going to use it. Roxy swung a fist into Mildred’s throat to follow it before driving her knee up between her legs as hard as she could. “Ooo right in the vag!” Tyler called and a laugh caught in my throat. “Yes, Tor!” Darcy screamed as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd. “Show her how we fight where we come from!” As Mildred reared back, Roxy lunged forward, rolling them over so that she was on top before swinging her fists down into Mildred’s ugly face with a brutality that made my heart race. She was wild and vicious, blood pissing down her face from her own injuries as she used my stolen rings to batter Mildred again and again. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t end up with Dragons imprinted all over her face from her own injuries as she used my stolen rings to batter Mildred again and again. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t end up with Dragons imprinted all over her face from the shape of the jewellery. Mildred gave as good as she got, punching Roxy in the sides, the chest, even trying to bite her fist as she punched her. “Holy shit,” Seth breathed as he nuzzled against my arm. “This would be so hot if it wasn’t, you know, Mildred. But if I imagine her being literally any other girl then I’d be so turned on right now.” I swallowed a lump in my throat as I refused to agree out loud, but he was right. There was something about Roxy as she fought like that, her lip curled back with determination and absolutely no mercy in her. They might have been fighting like mortals having a bar brawl, but with a crown on her head and blood painting her flesh, I didn’t think she’d ever looked more like the Savage King’s daughter before. She really was a Fae Princess. And I liked it. Mildred cursed and screamed, throwing fists like sledgehammers so hard that I was pretty sure I heard ribs cracking, but Roxy wasn’t going to give in. She swung her arm back one final time and with a scream of rage, she hit Mildred so hard in her pug face that she blacked out. A laugh tumbled from my lips before I could stop it and Roxy looked up at me with a wild determination in her eyes as she grinned like a damn warrior. (Darius POV)

Breaks in a second, forever Broken peices can't be put together The cracks never disappear The knots are always visible Your words are imprinted forever The hurt just doesn't go away Broken hearts take forever to heal.

Do not treat this as a time of introspective penitence. To the extent you must clean up, do it with the attitude of someone showering and changing clothes, getting ready for the best banquet you have ever been to. This does not include three weeks of meditating on how you are not worthy to go to banquets. Of course you are not. Haven’t you heard of grace? Celebrate the stuff. Use fudge and eggnog and wine and roast beef. Use presents and wrapping paper. Embedded in many of the common complaints you hear about the holidays (consumerism, shopping, gluttony, etc.) are false assumptions about the point of the celebration. You do not prepare for a real celebration of the Incarnation through thirty days of Advent Gnosticism. At the same time, remembering your Puritan fathers, you must hate the sin while loving the stuff. Sin is not resident in the stuff. Sin is found in the human heart—in the hearts of both true gluttons and true scrooges—both those who drink much wine and those who drink much prune juice. If you are called up to the front of the class, and you get the problem all wrong, it would be bad form to blame the blackboard. That is just where you registered your error. In the same way, we register our sin on the stuff. But—because Jesus was born in this material world, that is where we register our piety as well. If your godliness won’t imprint on fudge, then it is not true godliness. Some may be disturbed by this. It seems a little out of control, as though I am urging you to “go overboard.” But of course I am urging you to go overboard. Think about it—when this world was “in sin and error pining,” did God give us a teaspoon of grace to make our dungeon a tad more pleasant? No. He went overboard.

I want to leave such an imprint on your heart and soul that anyone who dares to touch you will know me just by looking into your eyes.

He says forcefully, so it leaves an indelible imprint on your mind, “You are Mine! You have always been Mine and you will always be Mine. Never forget that! Come and share My happiness—not someday, but right now. I restore you to your rightful place as My favored child.” Some of you have never heard such words from a parent. Take it in. Believe it. This is real. If God is touching your heart right now, linger in this place with Him for a while.

Rancorous ivy. On the other side of the wall, at the edge of the river, the sand burned. The river lay afire. Kingfishers fell like spots across the eyes and laughter was yellow. Every Sunday Omensetter strolled by the river with his wife, his daughters, and his dog. They came by wagon, spoke to people who were off to church, and while Furber preached, they sprawled in the gravel and trailed their feet in the water. Lucy Omensetter lay her swollen body on a flat rock. Furber felt the sun lapping at her ears. It was like a rising blush, and his hands trembled when he held them out to make the bars of the cross. May the Lord bless you and keep you . . . He closed his eyes, drifting off. They would see how moved he was, how intense and sincere he was. Cause His light to shine upon you . . . He would find the footprints of the dog and imprint of their bodies. All the days of your life . . . The brazen parade of her infected person. Watchman. Rainbows like rings of oil around her. Watchman. Shouldn’t we be? I spy you, Fatty, behind the tree. He wanted to rub the memory from his eyes. Glittering. Beads of water stood on her skin and drop fled into drop until they broke and ran, the streaks finally fading. Her navel was inside out—sweet spot where Zeus had tied her. She was so white and glistening, so . . . pale, though darker about the eyes, the nipples dark. Open us to evil. He made a slit in his lids. Burn our hearts. Shawls of sunlight spilled over the backs of the pews. Nay-ked-nessss. The droplets gathered at the point of her elbow and hung there, the sac swelling until it fell and spattered on her foot. Nay . . . nay. To enclose her like the water of the creek had closed her. Nay . . . Proper body for a lover. Joy to be a stone. Please, the peep-watch is over. Please hurry now. Hurry. Get out of my church.

Love imprints a memory on the heart that no one can erase.

Return, return to your First Love. I Am the One your heart is dreaming of.

You have been called. Know that. Understand that. Imprint it deep in your heart and set out on your mission in whatever way you can, here and now! The world is waiting for you.

In the small things is the genetic imprint of the larger things... You must reverse the small things as well as the larger things. You must learn to see not just with your eyes but with your heart and intelligence.

When you shoot the arrows straight from your heart, it is bound to reach its target with a bull's eye and leave everlasting imprints ; raw and deep....

Nobody can “treat” a war, or abuse, rape, molestation, or any other horrendous event, for that matter; what has happened cannot be undone. But what can be dealt with are the imprints of the trauma on body, mind, and soul: the crushing sensations in your chest that you may label as anxiety or depression; the fear of losing control; always being on alert for danger or rejection; the self-loathing; the nightmares and flashbacks; the fog that keeps you from staying on task and from engaging fully in what you are doing; being unable to fully open your heart to another human being.

This right here," he presses his hand to my naked breast, right over my heart, "your heart beats for me. The love I feel for you runs through my veins. I know you feel the same. I see the flutter of your heart in your neck and know that the reason your heart beats is for me. We're one in the same, Luna. One doesn't exist without the other. I'll seize to even be alive in a world without you in it. Why would you think I'd want to experience someone, anyone else in this world? You'll be far away, but you're engraved in my heart. I don't care about miles, Luna, not when you've already imprinted on my entire being.

dwells? Or do you live as a pauper, largely dependent on the world for your joy? It is God’s will that Christ should fill all things, including your heart and its needs! Allow the Holy Spirit to imprint deeply upon your heart the words of our text in all its fullness. The Heavenly Life For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God … Christ, who is your life. COLOSSIANS 3:3–4 It is of the utmost importance for a Christian to know that the new life he or she receives actually is the life of Christ, which He lives in the Father. Our life is hidden with Christ in God and needs to be renewed daily. It requires time and thought to grasp the truth that the life Christ lives in the Father is the same life He lives in you and me. Christ does not live one life in the Father and another in you. His explicit words are, “Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you” (John 14:19–20). As Christ is in the Father, so you are in Him and He in you. Lord, I still have much to learn about my life that is hidden in You. Lead me into the fullness of such an experience. How poorly we have grasped this! How little trouble we take to experience it. Here is the secret: a necessary daily quiet time with prayerful meditation to become deeply impressed with the truth that the Lord Jesus, whose life is hidden in God, also has His life hidden in us. Only in this way can we truly come to know that our glorious heavenly Christ lives in our hearts to enable us to live as children of the heavenly Father. If we allow the Spirit of God to daily keep alive in us this heavenly life in Christ, we shall then know what it is to be able to testify to having died in Christ that we might experience His very own heavenly life. Then we shall enjoy a walk with God that participates in his Holiness and love.

you take all of my walls down with this fever-driven dream and we've got messy hearts with your skin against mine, but as much as fear has my head gripped and you at arm's length, we. still. intertwine. you're a soul instinct. and this feeling is a heart imprint. and when you're this close to me there's this way your heartbeat promises to take care of my own… so maybe it's safe to just give in to slow kisses on wild skin.

Guilt, once it's imprinted deeply on your soul, is almost impossible to get rid of. It becomes as much a part of you as your heart or your reason, and you realize if you let go of it, you will lose a part of yourself along with it.

when i get close, and when i let walls fall… i become a wild mess. and i get fully disarmed. i just wildflower open… soft. vulnerable. and i become such an easy mark for the way that forever is such a pretty word off the corner of your smile… and god, how it feels like the sweetest. thing. and i swear it… that stars shine brighter, and skin feels even softer, and songs sink in a little deeper, and the words are the sweetest. sugar. and they mean ten times, a hundred times, all the times more… and i feel it all like lightning and soul-imprint in my marrow. and it's beautiful. and it's terrifying. because my safe space… is in the wild open, where there's growing space and soul-searching space, and where my fire is bright and my wings are wide and my breathing is all its own and i can always feel the way my heart beats on its own… with me over here. and you over there. and i don't know if my heart will ever settle it… the way everything is more beautiful when i'm in love, but i feel so much stronger when i'm not.

Let your heart embrace Him, and allow Him lift you into your place of expressing His divine nature.

I tune in to all the people I’ll see and meet and interact with in the future, through my blogs, teleclasses, radio shows, podcasts, emails, social media, and keynotes. I feel a connection with everyone in my future and everyone in my past. I feel love flowing from my heart to all of them. I carry within me the indelible imprint of that time spent in communion with the infinite. I know that it will infuse my whole day, elevating my mind to a level at which it would never be capable of functioning unless I had centered myself at the start of the day. The insights and ideas that arise in and after meditation are usually at a level of brilliance far above that of which I am capable in my ordinary waking consciousness. From this elevated perspective I’m making connections in a way that my ordinary consciousness cannot match. I know I will find solutions, solve problems, and experience breakthroughs that I would never have had were my daily activities not infused with the wisdom, creativity, clarity, and joy of Bliss Brain. This produces a fundamentally different life from one lived at the level of ordinary consciousness. I lived at that address for a long time before I discovered the ecstasy of connection with the infinite. At that level of ordinary reality, I believed my fears were real. I believed that my limitations were objective facts. I believed that who I was today was determined by my past experiences. My mind was trapped in a small subset of possibilities. Now that I know that the expansive state is possible, and that I can reach it in meditation every day, I see limitless possibilities. I’m no longer stuck in that small local mind that sees problems as real and limitations as facts. When I move into Bliss Brain, I see vistas of possibility in which those problems and limitations cease to exist. They are only real at that limited level of mind, and they disappear when you consciously choose to ascend your awareness to the level of infinite nonlocal mind. You then bring the solutions and possibilities of that level back down to your daily walk through life. This creates a completely different experience than a life trapped in the confinement of local mind.

Keep moving, no need to ever look back- walk. Feel the earth under your feet with the feelings that once felt like defeat, leaving meaning in the imprints of your Souls. Walk, with the Universe on your back. Walk, journey, trust and receive. All while walking into infinity with me. There is nowhere to be. You are here with me. Feel my embrace and feel the echoes of eternities grace. Walk with me for there is no place to be except here with me.

I want you to wear those words on your fingers and imprint them into your hearts forever more, because you are the only ones who were ever worthy of my heart, and you are the only ones who will ever own it.

We leave an imprint on others with our attitude,” Megan said. “Good or bad. A little bit of us rubs off on them. So when you react with an attitude to something— good or bad—it’s like you’re creating a …” She paused and appeared to be thinking about what to say. “Like a fossil on the heart, if that makes any sense.

Postwallet, however, the scene tingled with mirthful possibility. Sasha felt the waiters eyeing her as she sidled back to the table holding her handbag with its secret weight. She sat down and took a sip of her Melon Madness Martini and cocked her head at Alex. She smiled her yes/no smile. “Hello,” she said. The yes/no smile was amazingly effective. “You’re happy,” Alex said. “I’m always happy,” Sasha said. “Sometimes I just forget.” Alex had paid the bill while she was in the bathroom—clear proof that he’d been on the verge of aborting their date. Now he studied her. “You feel like going somewhere else?” They stood. Alex wore black cords and a white button-up shirt. He was a legal secretary. On e-mail he’d been fanciful, almost goofy, but in person he seemed simultaneously anxious and bored. She could tell that he was in excellent shape, not from going to the gym but from being young enough that his body was still imprinted with whatever sports he’d played in high school and college. Sasha, who was thirty-five, had passed that point. Still, not even Coz knew her real age. The closest anyone had come to guessing it was thirty-one, and most put her in her twenties. She worked out daily and avoided the sun. Her online profiles all listed her as twenty-eight. As she followed Alex from the bar, she couldn’t resist unzipping her purse and touching the fat green wallet just for a second, for the contraction it made her feel around her heart. “You’re aware of how the theft makes you feel,” Coz said. “To the point where you remind yourself of it to improve your mood. But do you think about how it makes the other person feel?

I placed my heart with you. "Because your love made an everlasting imprint on my heart & life forever.

Her heart thundered away against the inside of her ribs, the sound loud in the relative silence of the room and the flutter pulsing against his skin between their clothes. Her breathing pushed her breasts against her shirt. Against him. Despite the fear pumping adrenaline through her system, she gazed at him with wide eyes that showed an inexplicable trust that grated against him like a sandpaper sponge bath. “What are you going to do to me?” she whispered. Almost like she was daring him. “You’re a mate,” he said. “So?” “Mates are like catnip to my kind—an obsession, a driving urge to find our own. What if I took you now, claimed you, pushed my fire into you?” Her lips fell open on a silent gasp, but fear didn’t reflect back at him even still. “You’d kill me if you aren’t my destined mate.” So, someone had at least warned her of the deadly consequences should the wrong man try to turn her. Had she listened? He squeezed her wrists a little harder, pressing into her so she couldn’t mistake the heavy cock pressing into her belly. “Yes.” “You’d lose a part of your soul as well,” she pointed out. He allowed his lips to tip up in what he fully intended to be a menacing smile. “Perhaps it’s worth it.” She stared back at him for a long minute. Then, suddenly, her heart quieted, her breathing slowed, her body relaxing under his. “Go ahead.” She was fucking daring him. Inside his head, his dragon growled, but not a warning, more like approval. The animal side of him liked this woman. That scared the hell out of him enough to have him fighting the foreign urge to scramble off her. When he said nothing, she tipped her head. “Just like I thought. All bark.” Bulls facing off against a matador in a ring dealt with less provocation than this woman was daring to throw at him. “You talk a good game,” she continued. “But you won’t hurt me.” Irritation spiked and swirled with a rushing need that had gripped him since the second she’d stepped in front of him in the hangar and he’d recognized her. Drake slammed his mouth over hers, his kiss both full of frustration, but also determined to frighten her into some semblance of self-preservation. He kissed her harshly, wildly, even as he continued to pin her to the bed. Except she didn’t whimper or turn away or struggle. Instead, Cami opened her mouth and licked the full seam of his lips, demanding entrance. Fuck. Gods help him, he opened, tangling his tongue with hers, reveling in the give and take. Her flavor melted across his tongue, sweet and tart at the same time, imprinting on his mind. A glow vaguely penetrated his senses behind his closed eyes, followed by a burst of heat that seemed to be originating from her. Almost as fast as it happened, Drake jerked back with a hiss, staring at a glowing spot under her white tank top. The source of the heat. Definitely a dragon mate. Which meant off-limits. Another shifter’s mate. With a groan he rolled away from her, flopping to his back, and flung an arm over his eyes, doing his damnedest to convince his dick to get its head out of the game. “You need to get out of here.

Let her eyes leave an imprint on your heart. Maybe one day those eyes will no longer belong to you, but your heart will be with you forever – until death.

I erased the imprints you've left in your wake so that in the distant future, when you eventually feel the need to look back, you won't find any evidence of my treacherous heart.

Don’t you understand? I can think of nothing, no one but you. In the morning I wake up with your image in my mind, the feeling of your body like an imprint against my skin. And at night. At night it’s the worst. I can’t live without you. I love you, with my whole being—my heart, my senses, my body, my mind. Every part of me yearns to be with you. ~Tariq

We are already bound together in the way of my people. Will you speak vows in the way of yours?” Her blue eyes widened with shock, eyes a man could drown in. Eyes a man could spend eternity staring into. A small, very male smile tugged at his mouth. He had succeeded in shocking her. “Mikhail, are you asking me to marry you?” “I am not really certain I know how it is done. Should I be on my knee?” He was grinning openly at her. “You’re proposing to me with a carload of assassins approaching?” “Potential assassins.” He gave her a small, heart-wrenching smile. “Say yes. You know you cannot possibly resist me. Say yes.” “After you made me drink that disgusting apple juice? You set your wolves on me, Mikhail. I know there’s a long list of sins I should be reciting.” Her eyes were sparkling with mischief. He pulled her into his arms, against the heavy muscles of his chest, fitting her neatly into the cradle of his hips. “I can see this is going to take some heavy persuasion.” His lips moved over her face like a brand, fastened on her mouth, and rocked the very earth. “No one should be able to kiss like you do,” Raven whispered. He kissed her again, tantalizingly sweet, his tongue sliding over hers sensuously, pure magic, pure promise. “Say yes, Raven. Feel how much I need you.” Mikhail dragged her closer so the hard evidence of his desire was clearly imprinted against her flat stomach. Taking her hand in his, he brought it down to cover the aching bulge and rubbed her palm slowly back and forth across him, tormenting both of them. He opened his mind so she could feel the sharpness of his hunger, the edge to his passion, the flood of warmth and love enveloping her, them. Say yes, Raven; he whispered it in her head, needing her to want him back, to accept him, good or bad. “You take such unfair advantage.” Her reply held a trace of amusement, was warm honey spilling over with love.

But what can be dealt with are the imprints of the trauma on body, mind, and soul: the crushing sensations in your chest that you may label as anxiety or depression; the fear of losing control; always being on alert for danger or rejection; the self-loathing; the nightmares and flashbacks; the fog that keeps you from staying on task and from engaging fully in what you are doing; being unable to fully open your heart to another human being.

soul-tangled with you. you were an imprint here before we touched wild skin. you were a feeling. a sense. and now you’re an instinct. a gravity. with. you. my heart has no defense. i feel chemicals with you. my skin remembers you. and when our bodies have to untangle and let this life turn over you’ll be just a feeling and just a sense… but only until we’re skin to skin again.

aching to touch stars… i hope you keep it close… no matter what. if it's imprinted on you, like soul memory, then i hope you keep it so. close. and that you hold on tight no matter what. there will be little traces of someday in the not-quite-yet, and i hope you feel them. and that you can find a way to trust them. even if weary sets in and uncertain gets loud, i hope you can be gentle with that doubt. and that something in you knows that it will pass. and that it doesn't mean give up. i hope you never truly feel give-up. but if you do, then i hope that some. how. that the fight in you finds its teeth and that heart of yours finds its fire and that you can reach deep down into that part of you that is aching to touch stars and just find a way to stay dreaming no. matter. what. i hope you can hold on and hold on and hold on… until you can feel every last bit of your hope holding you right back.

Intoxicate me with the beauty and breath of your soul. Leave such imprints on my heart that you come to me in dreams, and I will leave you with eternal light, cherishing you until the end of time through synchronicity, through poetry, through mystery and undeniable energy.

I want your ridiculous fuzzy robes in the morning and your tea-breath kisses. I want your laughs with my daughter and your midnight existential crises. I want your cat hair on my clothes and your imprint on my heart. I want to watch you make a mess of our house with every new creation, want to listen to every wise word you share with my daughter who I know loves you more than even I do already. I want to feel you in my arms at the end of every night and inhale the scent of you on my pillow at the start of every morning.

Noah’s arms wrapped around me, as if he could protect me from the burning light. I love you, he said through the imprint bond. Whether we mate here or in the Beyond, my heart will always be yours.

To Scarlett, In this life, one of the greatest lessons we must learn is to say no—to people, situations, and demands that don’t align with our well-being or respect our boundaries. Too often, people expect the maximum from us without considering the toll it takes. They don’t care if it overwhelms us, makes us unhappy, or even harms our health. Many are self-centered, focused solely on their own interests. That’s why it’s so important to protect your comfort zone, to prioritize your happiness, and to cherish your peace of mind. Scarlett, please always remember to take care of yourself. Your health, both physical and mental, is your most valuable treasure. Be kind to yourself, and don’t let anyone guilt you into giving more than you can. You’ve already given the world so much—your talent, your beauty, your incredible energy. But you owe no one anything beyond what you willingly choose to share. Spend time with your kids, Scarlett. These moments are precious, fleeting, and irreplaceable. What you do with them now, the love, the laughter, and the memories you create together, will be imprinted on their hearts forever. Long after they’ve grown, they will carry these moments with them, drawing strength and joy from the foundation of love you’ve built. Money, success, and fame are wonderful, but they pale in comparison to the love of family. In the end, it’s the people who love us unconditionally who make life worth living. You’ve inspired countless people, including me, with your talent and grace, but I hope you never forget how deeply you are loved for simply being yourself. I love you, Scarlett, not for the roles you’ve played or the fame you’ve achieved, but for the person you are—the person I’ve come to admire deeply. Be safe, be happy, and always remember that you deserve every ounce of love and care that comes your way. With all my heart, Someone who will always cherish you

There’s beauty in sadness, as well, you know. If we don’t long for something, ache for something, how do we know it’s real? Love isn’t pure joy. Love isn’t just a comfort blanket. Love can also bring sadness and melancholy. It’s a huge emotion, after all – and, as we all must come to terms with, everything changes. Nothing we love stays. And that’s a sadness that many people can’t grasp. What humans don’t always understand, though, is that the emotion – love, in itself? That never goes away. It’s a part of the fabric of the universe. Once you love, it gets woven into all of time. You see, the memory of your love is imprinted on the world, forever changing the course of history. She wasn’t singing because her heart was broken, you see? She was singing because her heart was full.