Quotes About Chant

He raised his arms and in sonorous tones he called on Addy Domarus several times and in several different ways to Come! Come!

It's intimidating to come out and hear the 'Skol' chant.

I was very lucky when I was a kid - I travelled a lot and spent a lot of time in Africa, Asia and Europe. I also chant in Sanskrit.

As he rounded Kennedy Street, he began to chant to himself a poem that he had heard once, he wasn't sure where. "That love is all there is; is all we know of love. It is enough; the freight should be proportioned to the groove.

That morning, for all I sat behind the stinking coffin of a murdered man, I found myself lulled along by the monks' beautiful, polyphonic chant. The psalms, and the Latin reading from Job, struck a chord. 'And thou sayest, how doth God know? Can he judge through the dark cloud? Thick clouds are a covering to him, that he seest not; and he walketh in the circuit of heaven.' Thick clouds indeed, I thought. I am still in a fog here.

But for now Anders can still make time. Time for the shadows to lengthen on the grass, time for the tethered dog to bark at the flying ball, time for the boy in right field to smack his sweat-blackened mitt and softly chant, They is, they is, they is.

I will not be violent," I chant-mutter. "I will not be violent. I am peaceful and good. I do not want to give anyone the finger.

In a heartbeat, a thousand voices took up the chant. King Joffrey and King Robb and King Stannis were forgotten, and King Bread ruled alone. "Bread." they clamored. "Bread, Bread!

Uno-dos-tres": ¿acaso es un simple cántico que aprendemos en la escuela, ese cántico automático que llamamos "contar"? ¿O bien existe una manera de ver a través del cántico y percibir lo que hay detrás y más allá de él, a saber: el reino de los números en sí; de

War wreaked on you his hideous ravishment; We, we alone, Nereids inviolate, Remain to weep, with the sea-birds to chant: Corinth is lost, Corinth is desolate.

In fact, in the Rig Veda there is one hymn that is an invocation of V?c, speech itself. Here are two of its verses:

Sophie marched away in rhythm to her new chant, not in the butt - not in the butt - not in the butt.

IKEA," chanted the dead. "First we feast, then IKEA. First we feast, then IKEA.

C'mon on down to the Whiff and Spit; snuff it up and cough it out," Lewis chanted, giving it a catchy rhythem.

Stalin is dead! Stalin is dead! No school today!" we yelled. "Stalin is dead! No school today..." was a chant to linger in my ears for years to come.

Thus many a melody passed to and fro between the two nightingales, drunk with their passion. Those who heard them listened in delight, and so similar were the two voices that they sounded like a single chant. Born of pain and longing, their song had the power to break the unhappiness of the world.

She felt her heart beating in her throat when the man in the mask began to chant again.

That sounded scary and obsessive, like I have an altar somewhere with your pictures over it where I light candles and chant your name. Jesus, that's even scarier. Run now, I won't hold it against you.

The Hell Priest had begun to utter what sounded like a cross between a chant and an equation: numbers and words intertwined.

Good by-aye! she chanted, my American sweet immortal dead love; for she is dead and immortal if you are reading this.

Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.

I follow the scent of falling rain And head for the place where it is darkest I follow the lightning And draw near to the place where it strikes —NAVAJO CHANT

As the chant grew in volume she began to be conscious of the terrible potency of language, the sense that a name spoken is a summons and more than a summons, an act of creation, for a word shapes an idea, an idea shapes belief, and belief shapes the world.

She had forgotten about this, the narcotic of the crowd. This is why you came to hear music. To stop being yourself, to let that thing that you supposedly were go, and just be part of a mob, synchronized by the heavy beat, mesmerized by a singer with big smeary red lips, her spooky chant.