Quotes About Voice

Just rejoice with godly excitement that His voice has been heard. You may often have to watch Jesus Christ wreck a life before He saves it (see Matthew 10:34).

But many times, the secret-breathing world Whispers to thee, yet whispers with a voice Which memory shall warehouse as a shout;

Perhaps the Irish are so rich in the voice because twas the only thing the English could not take from them. It is why the Welsh sing.

If I shot an arrow and thought about an ass, would it surprise you that I hit Erik?' Stark asked me in a pleasant, nonchalant voice.

The voice of Love seemed to call to me, but it was a wrong number.

Perhaps I didn't voice my unhappiness soon enough; rather, I spent more time feeling like a disappointment and scrambling to patch our cracks than I did considering whether he required an unreasonable level of tending.

the purser has something resembling joy in her voice when she welcomes us to San Francisco. 'I probably don't need to tell you all to open the overhead bins with caution,' she says. 'If your contents haven't shifted, you must be carrying lead weights.

Baywatch was a turning point for me. Reluctantly famous (in over 150 countries) I tried to make sense of my place on earth. I started to realize -- while being interviewed endlessly about silly things. That I had a Voice!!!

At the sound of Austin's voice, the kid's eyes fluttered open. "Am … I … dead?" Austin grinned. "I'm only a paramedic, not a doctor, but I'm gonna guess no.

There are so many young women who need to hear this story. I don't want them to learn from my mistakes; I want them to stop hating themselves for mistakes of their own. I want them to laugh and see that they do have a voice and their own brand of intelligence and, girl, fuck fitting in.

does it mean to listen to a voice before it is

Because if you didn't speak your truth, there was always something that would speak it for you that much louder.

if you didn't speak your truth, there was always something that would speak it for you that much louder.

Fear has silenced the voice of truth in your world, and this is the anguish with which you struggle.

That first voice, the voice of home, is the one the writer must protect from the contempt or disdain or disregard of any critic, no matter how famous or capable that critic may be. It is not all that a mature writer needs; surely every writer needs the tools of literary criticism and as much knowledge of various traditions as possible—but a profound acceptance of and trust in one's own voice is the first and most important thing the writer needs.

His voice was soft and sweet as molasses; but my mother once told me that you had to trust that the first thing out of a person's mouth was truth. After they have a chance to think about it, they'll change what they say to be more socially acceptable, something they think you'll be happier with, something that will get the results they want.

Christmas garland and a rock?" he said, a smile in his voice. "Why not an ornament?" "Wolves aren't fragile," I told him. "And they're... stubbon and hard to move.

Mercy?" His voice was very calm, that "people are going to die" calm only he could do. As soon as he started to speak, silence fell behind him because I wasn't the only one who knew that voice.

I promise I won't spank you," he told me, his voice rough and low as he added, "not unless you ask me to." I let him feel my laugh against his shoulder. "That's because you aren't genuinely suicidal.

My mother's voice whispered in my ears. Look now to your da. If you've never seen rage on his face, you have now. Those old fools won't know what hit them.

Are you not my daughter, whispered another voice, Coyote's voice

His voice was soft and sweet as molasses; but my mother once told me that you had to trust that the first thing out of a person's mouth was truth. After they have a chance to think about it, they'll change what they say to be more socially acceptable, something they think you'll be happier with, something that will get the results they want.

Memoir is trustworthy and its truth assured when it seeks the relation of self to time, the piecing of the shards of personal experience into the starscape of history's night. The materials of memoir are humble, fugitive, a cottage knitting industry seeking narrative truth across the crevasse of time as autobiography folds itself into the vast, fluid essay that is history. A single voice singing its aria in a corner of the crowded world.

I remain less preoccupied with coming to voice because I know how quickly voice can be taken away. My concern now lies in finding effective ways to use the voice that I have claimed while I have it.