Quotes About Sound

I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice

I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice, I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused, flowing, sounds of the city, sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night.

stereo system with MartinLogan speakers

hero of the piece was John Draper, a hacker known as Captain Crunch because he had discovered that the sound emitted by the toy whistle that came with the breakfast cereal was the same

A hero of the piece was John Draper, a hacker known as Captain Crunch because he had discovered that the sound emitted by the toy whistle that came with the breakfast cereal was the same 2600 Hertz tone used by the phone network's call-routing switches.

Her voice was somewhere in the lower register of gold.

Il tetro e monotono rumoreggiare dei flutti che venivano incessantemente a scagliarsi contro la riva rocciosa al di sotto, era per l'orecchio ciò che il paesaggio era per l'occhio: un simbolo di invariabile e monotona malinconia, non esente da un certo orrore.

Thus, in regard to the ear, the next organ in importance to the eye, we are repeatedly deceived by such sounds as are imperfectly gathered up and erroneously apprehended. From the false impressions received from this organ also arise consequences similar to those derived from erroneous reports made by the organs of sight. A whole class of superstitious observances arise, and are grounded upon inaccurate and imperfect hearing.

Beauty in music is too often confused with something that lets the ear lie back in an easy chair. Many sounds that we are used to do not bother us, and for that reason we are inclined to call them beautiful. Frequently—possibly almost invariably—analytical and impersonal test will show that when a new or unfamiliar work is accepted as beautiful on its first hearing, its fundamental quality is one that tends to put the mind to sleep.

Of all sound of all bells... most solemn and touching is the peal which rings out the Old Year.

And while she sounded lonesome, I doubted whether a whip-poor-will ever sounded that hauntingly pure.

A cicada whines, his voice Starting to drown through the rainy world, No ripple of wind, no sound but his song of black wings, No song but the song of his black wings. Such emptiness at the heart, such emptiness at the heart of being

This is what I remember: (i) the little pocket of space he creates for me, (ii) how it is enough, (iii) the sound of his voice,

The bass, no matter what kind of music you're playing, it just enhances the sound and makes everything sound more beautiful and full. When the bass stops, the bottom kind of drops out of everything.

He said if a tree fell down in a forest, and there was nobody there to hear it, would it make a sound? I think what he meant was that sounds only become sounds when we hear them, otherwise it's just waves that go through the air. So if there were no ears there to pick up the sound waves then is there any sound at all?

That sound . . . that sound, it came from his mouth. It was the song of something dying. Something that never did live.

The heat was so intense that my memory of it is not so much a sensation as a sound, a whine that rose to a dissonant keen with my head at its very center.

The air came alive with the sound of the wind whipping the trees at times and at other times it was profoundly hushed by the endless silencing snow. Everything but me seemed utterly certain of itself. The sky didn't wonder where it was.

Maybe the meaning was in how we heard the sound, but did nothing about it until it was so loud we had no choice.

It was very rare that the old Cap'n swore, for he was a sound Churchman, and when he did swear it was with a sort of reverence.

I know everyone's voice from everyone else's in a way that's almost impossible to describe. There's a weird clarity to it — like each voice is a ribbon, stretched out, glittering, unique in its color, depth, variety. I hear them like hearing is seeing. Trey has a purple voice, low and dark and deep...

The soft extractive note of an aged cork being withdrawn has the true sound of a man opening his heart.

Hearing protection is a sound investment.

Buddha's words are everywhere, in every sound of the universe.