1 She led them down green glades into the heart of silence.
2 She invoked his help against this attack upon the jolly human heart.
3 "How can my heart, how can my heart," he repeated, puffing at his cheroot.
4 It was in that deep centre, in that black heart, that the lady had drowned herself.
5 But first they must fight, as the dog fox fights with the vixen, in the heart of darkness, in the fields of night.
6 "Yes, they bore one stiff," Mrs. Manresa interrupted, scenting culture, resenting the snub to the jolly human heart.
7 He loved flowers, and arranging them, and placing the green sword or heart shaped leaf that came, fitly, between them.
8 Can't see a candle gutter but its her heart that's melting, or snuff a wick without reciting all the names in Cupid's Calendar.
9 And they too were delighted; now they could follow in her wake and leave the silver and dun shades that led to the heart of silence.
10 Had there been a cat she would have seen it--any cat, a starved cat with a patch of mange on its rump opened the flood gates of her childless heart.
11 The room was a shell, singing of what was before time was; a vase stood in the heart of the house, alabaster, smooth, cold, holding the still, distilled essence of emptiness, silence.
12 She stirred the stagnant pool of his old heart even--where bones lay buried, but the dragon flies shot and the grass trembled as Mrs. Manresa advanced across the lawn to the strains of the gramophone.
13 For as the train took over three hours to reach this remote village in the very heart of England, no one ventured so long a journey, without staving off possible mind-hunger, without buying a book on a bookstall.
14 They were not too regular; but regular enough to suggest columns in a church; in a church without a roof; in an open-air cathedral, a place where swallows darting seemed, by the regularity of the trees, to make a pattern, dancing, like the Russians, only not to music, but to the unheard rhythm of their own wild hearts.