When things break, it's not the actual breaking that prevents them from getting back together again. It's because a little piece gets lost - the two remaining ends couldn't fit together even if they wanted to. The whole shape has changed.
Until this moment, I had not realized that someone could break your heart twice, along the very same fault lines.
Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a lifetime, seventy times a minute, and scarcely falter along the way. Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things, can prove remarkably difficult to kill.