Quotes About Voices

But there were also other voices among the powerful in Westhofen. They thought the current state of affairs there was unbearable. Fahrenberg had to be dismissed as soon as possible, and with him also the clique he had brought with him or had gathered about him. It was not that those who felt this way wanted to see an end of the hell and a beginning of justice at Westhofen. Rather, they wanted there to be order even in hell.

In the former Soviet Union in the years following 1989, nationalism was still popularly believed to be progressive; nationalist leaders were still believed, at least in the beginning, to speak for the many people whose voices had been suppressed in the past.

Una vertigine dell'immutabile, come se nella società non fosse cambiato nulla. Nella confusione delle voci, percepite d'un tratto come separate dai corpi, sapevamo che il pranzo di famiglia era un luogo in cui poteva sopraggiungere la follia e ci si sarebbe potuti trovare a rovesciare il tavolo urlando.

There's just a proliferation of blogs and the chattering classes and people talking. More avenues for people to make their feelings known, which is good.

Always, after he was in bed, there were voices - indefinite, fading, enchanting - just outside his window, and before he fell asleep he would dream one of his favorites waking dreams.

The sun had gone down behind the tall apartments of the movie stars in the West Fifties, and the unclear voices of children, already gathered like crikets on the grass, rose through the hot twilight.

While the rain continued it had seemed like the murmur of their voices, rising and swelling a little now and then with gusts of emotion.

already there are wanderers, confident girls who weave here and there among the stouter and more stable, become for a sharp, joyous moment the center of a group and then excited with triumph glide on through the sea-change of faces and voices and color under the constantly changing light.

He went three hundred yards up the slope to the other hotel, he engaged a room, and found himself washing without a memory of the intervening ten minutes, only a sort of drunken flush pierced with voices, unimportant voices that did not know how much he was loved.

He wheeled off his bicycle, feeling Nicole's eyes following him, feeling her helpless first love, feeling it twist around inside him. He went three hundred yards up the slope to the other hotel, he engaged a room and found himself washing without a memory of the intervening ten minutes, only a sort of drunken flush pierced with voices, unimportant voices that did not know how much he was loved.

Only as the local train shambled into the low-forested clayland of Westmoreland County, did he feel once more identified with his surroundings; at the station he saw a star he knew, and a cold moon bright over Chesapeake bay; he heard the rasping wheels of buckboards turning, the lovely fatuous voices, the sound of sluggish primeval rivers flowing softly under soft Indian names.

negroes' voices floated drowsily back, mingled in an air that she had heard them singing before. "Time is

Americans were saying good-by in voices that mimicked the cadence of water running into a large old bathtub.

J'avais confondu jusque-là le murmure de la pluie et celui de leurs voix, croyant qu'elles s'élevaient parfois avec de petites bouffées d'émotion.

The entire life of the human soul is mere motions in the shadows. We live in a twilight of consciousness, never in accord with whom we are or think we are. Everyone harbours some kind of vanity, and there's an error whose degree we can't determine. We're something that goes on during the show's intermission; sometimes, through certain doors, we catch a glimpse of what may be no more than scenery. The world is one big confusion, like voices in the night.

Passa tudo isso, e nada de tudo isso me diz nada, tudo é alheio ao meu destino, alheio, até, ao destino próprio — inconsciência, carambas ao despropósito quando o acaso deita pedras, ecos de vozes incógnitas — salada coletiva da vida.

Sadly I write in my quiet room, alone as I have always been, alone as I will always be. And I wonder if my apparently negligible voice might not embody the essence of thousands of voices, the longing for self-expression of thousands of lives, the patience of millions of souls resigned like my own to their daily lot, their useless dreams, and their hopeless hopes. In these moments my heart beats faster because I'm conscious of it.

I think that women of color use social media to make our voices heard with or without the amplification of white women. I also think that, many times, when white women want our support, they use an umbrella of 'women supporting women' and forget that they didn't lend the same kind of support.

I'm not saying I'm the only Jewish person who cares about Palestinian people, but unfortunately, their voices are not necessarily heard as loudly as they should be.

For me, a story begins with music: I feel the rhythm, the cadence, the pulse of the characters and their voices and the setting. Because I had just finished writing a book called 'Black Potatoes: The Story of the Great Irish Famine,' I was already filled with the music of the lives and culture of the Irish people, so I thought, why not use it?

What we have in Mexico and Latin America is a wide diversity of voices, but in Mexico, for example, we haven't been able to get a lot of the movies into theaters.

I'm just trying to stretch the public space wider and make it more open so that a wider variety of people and faces and stories and perspectives and also expertise can come through. So everything that I do rests on that, trying to support on other voices.

Facts still matter, and social media is allowing for a wider range of new and independent voices to outcompete alarmist environmental journalism at legacy publications.

Always gotta keep busy or the voices start telling me to do wild things.