Quotes About Echoes

Places had echoes- and if one were sensitive, one might just pick up some resonance from the past, some feeling for what had happened.

There is a heaven of disembodied voices

Good writing is like a great cathedral. The echoes are lovely.

Sometimes the world seems like a big hole. You spend all your life shouting down it and all you hear are echoes of some idiot yelling nonsense down a hole.

the site still radiated a powerful aura that whispered of past glories too ancient for me to comprehend.

The avalanche was down, the hillside swept bare behind it; the last echoes died on the white slopes; the new mount glittered and lay still in the silent valley.

The grass is full of ghost to-night.' 'The whole campus is alive with them.

Our thoughts were frosty mist along the eaves; our two ghosts kissed, high on the long, mazed wires - eerie half-laughter echoes here and leaves only a fatuous sigh for young desires; regret has followed after things she loved, leaving the great husk.

All of this passes, and none of it means anything to me. It's all foreign to my fate, and even to fate as a whole. It's just unconsciousness, curses of protest when chance hurls stones, echoes of unknown voices – a collective mishmash of life.

Oh! now to be alone, on some grand height, Where heaven's black curtains shadow all the sight, And watch the swollen clouds their bosom clash, While fleet and far the living lightnings flash... And see the fiery arrows fall and rise, In dizzy chase along the rattling skies,— How stirs the spirit while the echoes roll, And God, in thunder, rocks from pole to pole!

The crushed teapot in the rubbish of the bulldozed house will sing in your ears forever.

The past is never done with us in any substantial way. The most cursory examination reveals its bloody fingerprints on every surface of our lives.

The great eventful Present hides the Past; but through the din Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life behind steal in.

I'm just tired of everything…even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes…echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking.

Read them and you hear echoes of one story inside another, then echoes of another inside that.

Read them and you hear echoes of one story inside another, then echoes of another inside that. pg. 43

mas quem dá por um eco na água se ela própria água feita de ecos também, aqueles que dizem sentir a água enganam-se, sentem a memória dela

Como quando se tosse nas garagens à noite, pensei, e se sente o peso insuportável da própria solidão, nas orelhas, sob a forma de estampidos reboantes, (...).

The echoes of his footfalls ricochet off tall houses and rain back onto them, and he labors beneath her weight, and she is old enough to suspect that what he presents as quaint and welcoming might in truth be harrowing and strange.

Somewhere in the ruins above them, the cats are howling.

El aire es una biblioteca y registro de todas las vidas vividas, de todas las frases dichas, de todas las palabras que aún reverberan

the air a library and the record of every life lived, every sentence spoken, every word transmitted still reverberating within it.

But Pünd took his time leaving the house. Fraser knew that he was not so much searching for clues as sensing the atmosphere – he had often heard him talk about the memory of crime, the supernatural echoes left behind by sadness and violent death. There was even a chapter in that book of his. 'Information and Intuition' or something like that.

Seemed like you could stretch out your arms on either side and touch the mountains. Straight up they went, dark and feathered with treetops, and left a thin slice of stars above us. Way off, a mourning dove called, long and throaty, and the mountains picked it up and echoed the sound over and over, carrying it farther and farther away until you wondered how many mountains and hollows that call would travel--and it died away, so far, it was more like a memory than a sound.