Quotes About Voice

I love what I do, and I never thought about doing anything else. I think my voice was bestowed upon me; it was a gift I was given. I just had to learn to understand how to use it.

Well, I happen to have a love of vocal reproduction devices.

I liked his voice, rich and unself-conscious even when he forgot words and hummed to fill in the gap. What I didn't understand, I imagined, and thus it became a love song.

You have to stick to what you love, as writing is such a lonely and depressing existence... stick to what you love and someone will hear your voice.

I've always been in love with Howard McGillen's voice, ever since I got wind of him.

Your spirit is the universal voice of love - in you.

In the soft and gentle arms of a mother's love, children can come to know the voice of the Lord.

For all we know Of what the blessed do above Is, that they sing, and that they love. While I listen to thy Voice.

What a frequency What a voice. I love Bilal. I couldn't imagine a music world without his voice.

Like us, animals feel love, joy, fear and pain, but they cannot grasp the spoken word. It is our obligation to speak on their behalf ensuring their well-being and lives are respected and protected.

I'm tired, William. I'm tired of you. I'm tired of these parties. I'm tired." "The tone of your voice could have fooled me," he says, taking my arm roughly. "Just smile, okay? Just until we get past the photographers, then I don't give a fuck what you do." "You Ã¢â'¬Â¦ are Ã¢â'¬Â¦ awful," I say. "You're not much better," he says, pulling me along.

Listen," I say, my voice trembling with emotion, "have whatever you want but I'm telling you I recommend the Diet Pepsi.

if you and I do not stay Christian, if we give up whatever little voice and influence we have inside the larger Christian community, won't we be an answer to the misguided prayers of the religious company men and their followers, who want the rest of us gone?

Sometimes it whispers. If you stand too close to it, right there on the edge where the candlelight is swallowed by shadow, the darkness talks to you in a voice not its own—a voice you've probably heard before. A lover. A parent. A friend.

The voice, for its part, has the peculiarity that when released it carries the weight of the body from which it has come; since that weight is erotic reality, lovers believe they can embrace words of love, they believe they can make them into a continuum of love that will last forever.

Huoneesta kuuluva Piersin ääni oli hiljainen mutta veitsenterävä. (C. J. Sansom: Ilmestys, suom. Ilkka Rekiaro)

Whales are vocal, but they lack a political voice. They, too, are like tribal people, like peasants, natives, like the poor and most of us: underrepresented, rolled by the big money of strong-armed, weak-minded people who never grasp that they already have too much, who are politically connected yet so lethally out of touch with themselves and the world.

She was reasonably sure her remarks were not entirely foolish, and did not wish to be ignored, much less ignored and patronized alternately. Part of it—but only a part—she knew was due to the softness of her voice. So she developed a physics voice, a professional voice: clear, competent, and many decibels above conversational. With such a voice it was important to be right. She had to pick her moments

And so it was I entered the broken world To trace the visionary company of hue, its voice An instant in the wind (I know not whither hurled) But not for long to hold each desperate choice. "The Broken Tower" by Hart Crane

Qué es una frase sin tono ni ritmo? Una muerta, una momia. ¡Ah, hermosa voz humana, alma de las palabras, madre del idioma, qué rica, qué infinita eres!

Nursemaid, you mean? Someone who can sing me to sleep at bedtime, spoon porridge into my mouth, and wipe my"—he hesitated just long enough to make both servants cringe with dread—"chinif I dribble?" "I haven't the voice for lullabies and I'm sure you're perfectly capable of wiping your own…chin,

My lord! We thought you were taking an afternoon nap!" "Sorry to disappoint you," the earl of Sheffield drawled, his voice muffled by the rug. "Someone must have forgotten to tuck me into my cradle.

Let the stillness be, High Lord. Do not disturb it. If you are able, listen to its voice—but let it be.

there were several times when Shea wished that Panamon Creel would tire of his own voice for a few minutes. The tall thief carried on a steady conversation with his companions, with himself, and on occasion with no one in particular, for the entire morning. He talked about everything imaginable, including a good many things about which he seemed to know nothing.