For her my soul is of wax, where she can imprint whatever she pleases; and to preserve and guard it, it will not be as if imprinted in wax, but as if sculpted in marble, whose hardness withstands the passage of time.

His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain:
He was a lover of the good old school,
Who still become more constant as they cool.

If only my heart were stone.

The only lasting beauty is the beauty of the heart

To a heart transformed by love, it is a mandolin.

And mine a shielded heart for her
Who gathers simples of the moon.

Her great heart performs her bidding.

Her heart was made of liquid sunsets.

Such was the texture of her marble.

[In a description of Laura Trevelyan.]

Your heart is your temple.

XXIV. And kneeling at the edge of the transparent sea I shall shape for myself a new heart from salt and mud

A mother has a backbone made of steel and a heart of gold

Let me hold your heart like a flower lest it bloom and collapse.

Character is not cut in marble - it is not something solid and unalterable. It is something living and changing, and may become diseased as our bodies do.