A Guzerato soldier once told me of a saying in his land: whatever is in your hand must serve as your weapon. What's in my hand?-- a heart turned to stone. It serves as the most ruthless weapon; unlike sword or spike, it grows sharper and sturdier with use, almost invincible against metal or mortar.
A stone heart has affections of the most violent kinds: it demands blood and death to commemorate its past tenderness; it remembers what is was so clearly it cannot bear to see it thriving elsewhere.

A stone heart: tenderness coagulated.

A stone heart: so much erased and yet so little forgotten.

A stone heart: its own death engraved on its hardness.