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At eighteen the heart shoots like a pebble from a slingshot
and the head doesn't sit on the shoulder.
--
From Human Landscapes from My Country, Book Two, Section VII

 

Nazim Hikmet

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You say it's all in my head
And the things I think just don't make sense
So where you been then? Don't go all coy
Don't turn it round on me like it's my fault
See I can see that look in your eyes
The one that shoots me each and every time.
You grace me with your cold shoulder
Whenever you look at me I wish I was her.
You shower me with words made of knives
Whenever you look at me I wish I was her.

 

Adele (singer)

 

A Philosopher's school is a Surgery: pain, not pleasure, you should have felt therein. For on entering none of you is whole. One has a shoulder out of joint, another an abscess: a third suffers from an issue, a forth pains in the head. And am I then to sit dwon and treat you to pretty sentiments and empty fluourishes, so that you may applaud me and depart, with neither shoulder, nor head, nor issue, nor abscess a whit the better for your visit? Is it then for this that young men are to quit their homes, and leave parents, friends, kinsmen and substance to mouth out Bravo to your empty phrases! (121)

 

Epictetus

 

No magical alarm sounded, though I did hit my head five times on a pebble†.

 

Jonathan Stroud

 

“You will understand,” said the Weaponeer, “that a pattern for events exists. It is the function of such as myself to shape events so that they will fit the pattern.” He bent, with a graceful sweep of arm, and seized a small jagged pebble. “Just as I can grind this bit of rock to fit a round aperture.”
Kergan Banbeck reached forward, took the pebble, tossed it high over the tumbled boulders. “That bit of rock you shall never shape to fit a round hole.”
The Weaponeer shook his head in mild deprecation. “There is always more rock.”
“And there are always more holes,” declared Kergan Banbeck.

 

Jack Vance

 

When she's layin' on my shoulder on the sofa in the dark
And about the time she falls asleep, so does my right arm.
And I want so bad to move it, 'cause it's tinglin' and it's numb;
But she looks so much like an angel that I don't wanna wake her up.
Yeah I live for little moments
When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it.
Yeah I live for little moments like that.

 

Brad Paisley