Quotes About Voice

listened to the woman's voice.

The dead are mute, but the living still have voice with which to protest their innocence. Often their objections are noisy and pious, impossible to refute since the person who could condemn them has been silenced forever.

up. A singsong voice said, "At the sound of the tone, General Telephone time will be twelve o'clock, exactly." I burst out laughing and Althea looked at me.

Lord our God, hear my prayer, the prayer of my heart. Bless the largeness inside me, no matter how I fear it. Bless my reed pens and my inks. Bless the words I write. May they be beautiful in your sight. May they be visible to eyes not yet born. When I am dust, sing these words over my bones: she was a voice.

When I am dust, sing these words over my bones: she was a voice.

Probably one or two moments in your whole life you will hear a dark whispering spirit, a voice coming from the center of things. It will have blades for lips and will not stop until it speaks the one secret thing at the heart of it all. Kneeling on the floor, unable to stop shuddering, I heard it plainly. It said, You are unlovable...

I wanted to say, Who am I to do this, a woman? But that voice was not mine. It was Father's voice. It was Thomas'. It belonged to Israel, to Catherine, and to Mother. It belonged to the church in Charleston and the Quakers in Philadelphia. It would not, if I could help it, belong to me.

I asked myself, How many times have I denied my innermost wisdom and silenced this voice? How many times can a woman betray her sou before it gives up and ceases calling to her at all?

We are volcanoes. When we women offer our experience as our truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains. That's what I want—to hear you erupting. You Mount St. Helenses who don't know the power in you—I want to hear you. . . . If we don't tell our truth, who will? Ursula K. Le Guin

You could say I'd never had a true religious moment, the kind where you know yourself spoken to by a voice that seems other than yourself, spoken to so genuinely you see the words shining on trees and clouds. But I had such a moment right then, standing in my own ordinary room. I heard a voice say, Lily Melisa Owens, your jar is open. In a matter of seconds I knew exactly what I had to do -- leave .

Probably one or two moments in your whole life you will hear a dark whispering spirit, a voice coming from the center of things. It will have blades for lips and will not stop until it speaks the one secret thing at the heart of it all.

How does one know the voice is God's? I believed the voice bidding me to go north belonged to him, though perhaps what I really heard that day was my own impulse to freedom. Perhaps it was my own voice. Does it matter?

Perhaps the thing most denied to women is anger. "Forbidden anger, women could find no voice in which publicly to complain; they took refuge in depression," writes Carolyn Heilbrun.56 Her words came true for me. Without the ability to allow or the means to adequately express the anger, I began to slide into periods of depression.

You could say I'd never had a true religious moment… But I had such a moment right then, standing in my own ordinary room. I heard a voice say, Lily Melissa Owens, your jar is open.

Perhaps the thing most denied to women is anger. Forbidden anger, women could find no voice in which publicly to complain; they took refuge in depression, writes Carolyn Heilbrun. Her words came true for me. Without the ability to allow or the means to adequately express the anger, I began to slide into periods of depression.

John raised his hands to quiet the uproar. "You ask who I am—I will tell you who I am. I am a voice crying in the wilderness.

I realized that the heart of religion was setting up an honest dialogue with the uniqueness of one's soul and finding a deeply personal relationship with God, the inner Voice, the inner Music that plays in you as it does in no one else.

Taking the bowl in his hands, he turned it as he read aloud, "Lord our God, hear my prayer, the prayer of my heart." Looking up, he held my gaze a moment before continuing. "Bless the largeness inside me, no matter how I fear it. Bless my reed pens and my inks. Bless the words I write. May they be beautiful in your sight. May they be visible to eyes not yet born. When I am dust, sing these words over my bones: she was a voice.

Ann, seeking her true self, her autonomy and voice, her place in the world; and me, looking for the sap of spring, the ability to conjure a new dream of myself and bring it forth. Ann

My ultimate authority is the divine voice in my own soul. Period.

A gdy w proch siÄ™ obrócÄ™, zaÅ›piewaj nad ko??mi moimi sÅ'owa: Ona byÅ'a gÅ'osem.

I wanted to speak my conscience and have it matter.

I am Ana. I was the wife of Jesus of Nazareth. I am a voice.

There shall never be another season of silence until women have the same rights men have on this green earth.