Quotes About Voice

I was an original Elvis fan. He was the voice of my generation. I was listening to him on the radio when he released his great Sun records with Scotty Moore on electric guitar and Bill Black on bass.

I have sung all the songs in '96,' and I have dubbed for the film as well.

I've always been a singer. I never really decided I was gonna be a singer. It just kind of - I just sung a lot.

The little song and dance number at the end - that's me, my voice, howling out. It was a new experience for me. I've never sung before and I've certainly never sung on screen. I think I sung on stage when I was 13 and for some reason nobody's asked me to try it again since.

A song is a short composition for voice and instruments. It is a piece of sung poetry set to music. It is usually only a few minutes long.

Every song asks to be sung in a different way.

I hear my songs being sung by females before I change them and make them into my voice.

We've always sung. As I have become a grandmother and become older, of course you have less voice and you notice this in the bath.

No-one has ever sung quite so beautifully as Karen Carpenter.

If I get back into theater, I think I'd want to do a play. I enjoy singing, but it beats me up a bit. I get super paranoid and self-conscious about my voice.

I was a super once - an extra - in 'Die Fledermaus,' and was seated within three feet of Placido Domingo. I had never heard a voice of that beauty so close up. It felt as if an electric shock were running through me.

And if out of this turning-within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, then you will not think of asking anyone whether they are good or not. Nor will you try to interest magazines in these works: for you will see them as your dear natural possession, a piece of your life, a voice from it. A work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity. That is the only way one can judge it.

Jubilation knows and Longing grants — only Lament still learns; with girlish hands she counts the ancient evil through the nights. But suddenly, unpracticed and askant, she lifts one of our voice's constellations Into the sky unclouded by her breath.

The sleeping and the waking, the bright and the dark, the voice and the silence... la présence et l'absence. All the presumed opposites which converge somewhere in one point where they sing the hymn of their union--and this place is, for the time being, our heart.

Not wooing, no longer shall wooing, voice that has outgrown it be the nature of your cry; but instead, you would cry out as purely as a bird when the quickly ascending season lifts him up, nearly forgetting that he is a suffering creature and not just a single heart being flung into brightness, into the intimate skies.

Something in Mama's voice was vast and high, like a rainbow; yet something sad and deep, like when the organ played in church, was around Mama's words.

Ah, I can hear you say, so it was all a build-up to bore us with his buggy jiving. He only wanted us to listen to him rave! But only partially true: Being invisible and without substance, a disembodied voice, as it were, what else could I do? What else but try to tell you what was really happening when your eyes were looking through? And it is this which frightens me: Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?

All they wanted of me was one belch of affirmation and I'd bellow it out loud. Yes! Yes! YES! That was all anyone wanted of us, that we should be heard and not seen, and then heard only in one big optimistic chorus of yassuh, yassuh, yassuh!

Being invisible and without substance, a disembodied voice, as it were, what else could I do? What else but try to tell you what was really happening when your eyes were looking through? And it is this which frightens me: Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?

Do not say things. Who you are thunders over you all the while so that I cannot hear what you say to the contrary.

The foremost watchman on the peak announces his news. It is the truest word ever spoken, and the phrase will be th fittest, most musical, and the unerring voice of the world for that time.

Do not think the youth has no force, because he cannot speak to you and me. Hark! in the next room his voice is sufficiently clear and emphatic. It seems he knows how to speak to his contemporaries. Bashful or bold then, he will know how to make us seniors very unnecessary.

If utterance is denied, the thought lies like a burden on the man.

Far otherwise; your silence answers very loud. You have no oracle to utter, and your fellow-men have learned that you cannot help them; for, oracles speak. Doth not wisdom cry, and understanding put forth her voice?