“It's raining in my heart, like it's raining in the city. What is this sadness that pierces my heart?”
“He broke my heart. You merely broke my life.”
“My heart broke when he died, split in half and fell down into my stomach or somewhere deep and muddy, and I'm still not sure where it is now. I hear it beating sometimes in my ears, or feel its fast pulse in my neck, like I do now; but in my chest, where it should be, it mostly just feels empty.”
“It was not the sorrow of the world that broke the heart of Christ, but its wickedness. He was equal to its sorrow ... He began by being the world's healer. But what broke him was its sin.”
“I have acid rain in my brain and it's killing the flowers in my heart.”