What message is needed when heart speaks to heart?

My brain said no.

But my heart!

Other than “the unanswerable question”… It’s the heart speaking, maybe that, maybe the human heart speaking.

Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.

Perhaps the heart does not deceive; never does give a false answer, except to those double-minded unhappy ones who do care about themselves, and so play tricks with it and tamper with it.

As you talk, so is your heart.

The heart does not talk, it is the intellect that does all the talking. All dealings are at the intellectual level. We have become like machines; our very lives have become mechanical. Life has lost its naturalness — like a garland of plastic flowers. There is no heart in life anymore. Only when hearts come together does true life blossom.

"What a fool you must be," said my head to my heart, or my sterner to my softer self.

Though critics may bow to art, and I am its own true lover,
It is not art, but heart, which wins the wide world over.

Though smooth be the heartless prayer, no ear in Heaven will mind it,
And the finest phrase falls dead if there is no feeling behind it.

Though perfect the player's touch, little, if any, he sways us,
Unless we feel his heart throb through the music he plays us.

Though the poet may spend his life in skilfully rounding a measure,
Unless he writes from a full, warm heart he gives us little pleasure.

So it is not the speech which tells, but the impulse which goes with the saying;
And it is not the words of the prayer, but the yearning back of the praying.

It is not the artist's skill which into our soul comes stealing
With a joy that is almost pain, but it is the player's feeling.

And it is not the poet's song, though sweeter than sweet bells chiming,
Which thrills us through and through, but the heart which beats under the rhyming.

And therefore I say again, though I am art's own true lover,
That it is not art, but heart, which wins the wide world over.

A heart is mad with wine, give it wine,
It is consumed with fire, give it fire.
To him who asks the state of my heart,
Breathe but a sigh, give that as answer.

It's a saying they have, that a man has a false heart in his mouth for the world to see, another in his breast to show to his special friends and his family, and the real one, the true one, the secret one, which is never known to anyone except to himself alone, hidden only God knows where.

“You’ve a good heart,” she told him. “Sometimes that’s enough to see you safe wherever you go.” Then she shook her head. “But mostly, it’s not.”

"Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter - bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.

Does bullying feel right in your heart? Threatening people with violence? How about actual killing? Our hearts know what is right, and what is morally wrong. It’s the mind that plays tricks. It’s the mind that - without training, and given superiority over heart - leads us to do the things that make us feel small, corrupted, fearful and tight in our own skin. Propaganda exists to help us override our heart wisdom. The lies others tell us and the lies we tell ourselves can be used to justify the worst cruelty and harm.