Quotes About Voice

Sometimes you got to lie on the outside to keep your voice loud on the inside. We don't owe the master the truth. He owes us. Nothing comes from the master. He is the thief in the night. He steals it all. And every time we have to say 'yes sir' and 'no sir,' he steals some more. But we can survive it, if we stay loud in here," she said, throwing a fist hard against her breast.

The biggest thing the white man takes from us ain't our bodies. He takes our voices, too. He swallows up our yes's and no's like biscuits. But one day our yes's and no's will be so loud and strong they will lodge in his throat. He will have to spit them out to keep from choking. He will starve. There won't be nothing left of him except the shadows he casts on the deadest night.

It was higher and shriller than Holly's, so we knew that it was Kipps.

You,' I said. My throat was dry; I could barely speak. 'Not the greatest welcome I've ever had,' the voice said, 'but accurate. Yes, I can't deny it. Me.'

Well done, Albert." Scarlett's voice came from close behind him. "I'm right here. Just relax now. Ignore the shooting." Which was pretty much Albert's motto at the best of times.

and if you want to know where all the good guys are, we're standing right in front of you, lacking the balls to actually make ourselves heard.

Empower your words, free your time Write My Essay for Me.

The voice of the people is the voice of God

The children seemed to cast their Precursors like shadows about the house, sometimes tangibly, in the sound of a voice, sometimes by suggestion, because it was striking the hour for their return from a walk, sometimes mysteriously, because inside the shell of their mother's head the children were painted like angels on the roof of a chapel.

La tristeza fascinante del lugar parece acentuarse con la visión de esas escuadras de pájaros sonámbulos, en pleno día, es como si el vacío se anudara con la honda tristeza, y ésta de vez en cuando cobrara voz con el chillido de alguna gaviota.

I think every form of art should be political.

My mother explains we are not legless birds, mutants. If she'd had a better education she would have know the word "ambiguous," not quite fish, more than snake, but settling into her limitations, she says we are among the few (the Marines?). The last Tuscarora Eel died a generation ago, so we are left Onondaga Eels among the Tuscarora, opinions dismissed by politics of representation, voices silenced in air and water.

The average American is heard only if wealthy donors happen to be saying the same thing.

The fatherless man can find strength in the fatherhood of God. Through a relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ, God becomes our Father. He is proud of His children because He is pleased with His Son who lives in them. In Jesus, God was and is calling those who are His children as they hear His voice and respond by the power of the Holy Spirit ( John 8:39–47; 10:22–30).

Speak out for those who cannot speak"—who in the church today realizes that this is the very least that the Bible requires of us?

Wilberforce was greatly renowned for his singing voice and came to be known as the "Nightingale of Commons"—probably not only for the remarkable quality of his voice but for the hours at which he sang.

But Wilberforce's exquisite voice was a force of nature itself, and as rude and harsh as the wind and rain were, Wilberforce's voice was glorious and beautiful.

Without the gods, how would I sing?' I asked. With your own voice,' he said.

Thus the anima component of the personality is connected with the "voice" which expresses the creative element in the individual, contrasted with the conventionality of the father, of the collective, of conscience.

Destiny isn't a path that any cat follows blindly. It is always a matter of choice, and sometimes the heart speaks loudest.

Wow!" Fish Leap exclaimed, his voice trembling with amusement. "You caught a tree!

His voice ached with a loneliness that contradicted his words. Sandstorm

But thoughts of his brother quickly slid away, to be replaced with the memory of heather-colored eyes and a soft voice asking if he needed herbs.

The Clans have forgotten the code," the voice whispered. "It has been broken time and time again, and because of the codebreakers, every Clan must pay a price. They must suffer.