Quotes About Voice

And then her cooing voice, plaintive in expostulation, disturbed the darkness, the velvet touch of her lips passed over his brow, and he could distinguish in the air the warmth of her breath.

On the contrary, you speak so beautifully that I could listen all day.' The astronomer threw a searching glance upon her for a moment; but there was no satire in the warm soft eyes which met his own with a luxurious contemplative interest. 'Say more of it to me,' she continued, in a voice not far removed from coaxing.

the voice was unexpectedly attractive...common in descriptions, rare in experince.

Good morning," he said, as though he had answered the door. His cultured voice has a slight metallic rasp beneath it, possibly from disuse. Dr Lecter's eyes are maroon and they reflect the light in pinpoints of red. Sometimes the points of light seem to fly like sparks to his center. His eyes held Starling whole.

Her smile and voice suggested the kind of excitement that comes when the first words in a long, silent relationship are spoken at last - a subtle excitement secretly incorporating into this one moment everything that has happened until now.

The Sehnsucht motif, a lonely wandering voice in the night, softly uttered its tremulous question. Silence followed, a silence of waiting. And then the answer: the same hesitant, lonely strain, but higher in pitch, more radiant and tender. Silence again. And then

The most thrilling day of the year, the first real day of Spring had enclosed its warm delicious beauty even to London eyes. It had put a spangle in every colour and a new tone in every voice, and city folks walked as though they carried real bodies under their clothes with real live hearts pumping the still blood through.

Beryl apoyó los codos sobre la mesa y releyó la carta. La voz parecía emanar del papel. Ya sonaba distante, como una voz que se oye por teléfono, alta, efusiva, con algo amargo en el tono. ¡Cómo la detestaba hoy!

Hail, brother! All hail, Thou Mighty One!" A velvety bass voice came booming over the water. Great Scott! Damnation take it!

When we were young, we were told that poetry is about voice, about finding a voice and speaking with this voice, but the older I get I think it's not about voice, it's about listening and the art of listening, listening with attention. I don't just mean with the ear; bringing the quality of attention to the world. The writers I like best are those who attend.

Conscience is that still, small voice that yells so loud the morning after." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

There was a whole vocabulary of suffering, eloquent in its wordlessness, which gave voice to all the things she couldn't do or say.

As she voiced all this out loud for the first time, she found a long-buried inner strength, and with it a conviction that her sanity and indeed her very survival depended on her walking away.

As I wrote, I found that Aibileen had some things to say that really weren't in her character. She was older, soft-spoken, and she started showing some attitude.

Don't let the noise of other people's opinions drown your inner voice. – Steve Jobs

and Hester spoke out,

Bark, bark," Jim said behind me. "Jim, what's your problem?" I asked as I reached out to open the glass-fronted door. "I think perhaps I am the problem," a smooth, silky, extremely sexy voice said behind us. "Oh, crap," I swore, letting my hand drop. "You are in France. The correct word ismerde," Rene corrected gently. "Sorry. Merde.

so I can vote and then bitch about it later. You can't really not vote and then bitch about what's happening. At least as a voter you try to make your voice and opinions heard.

How Birds Sing One is not taxed; one need not practice; one simply tips the throat back over the spine axis and asserts the chest. The wings and the rest compress a musical squeeze which floats a series of notes upon the breeze.

The still small voice of Jesus the Communist stole over the earth like a soft refreshing breeze, carrying healing wherever it went.

And he loves to read. He loves the whisper of the pages and the way his fingertips catch on rough paper, the pour of the words up from the leaves, through the soft light, into his eyes, the mute voice in his ears.

Who is God? Who am I? What does God want to do for his kingdom purposes through my unique voice?

Apparently, organizers kept Elvis Presley from joining his school's glee club. They said his voice would ruin their sound.

The true heart is the voice of the spirit.