Quotes About Voices

Some birds are shrieking at the tops of their voices, crazy birds.

I hear Martha's voice often as I walk along the beach. And others' too--Lily, Val, Kyla. I sometimes think I've swallowed every woman I ever knew. My head is full of voices. They blend with the wind and the sea as I walk the beach, as if they were disembodied forces of nature, a tornado whirling around me. I feel as if I were a medium and a whole host of departed spirits has descended on me clamoring to be let out.

And she would feel that sharp loneliness she had felt every long evening since she was a child. It was the kind of loneliness that made clocks seem slow and loud and made voices sound like voices across water. Old women she had known, first her grandmother and then her mother, rocked on their porches in the evenings and sang sad songs, and did not wish to be spoken to.

She knew there were words so terrible you heard them with your whole body. Guilty. And there were voices to say them. She knew there were people you might almost trust who would hear them, too, and be amazed, and still not really hear them because they knew they were not the ones the words were spoken to.

She knew there were words so terrible you heard them with your whole body. Guilty. And there were voices to say them. She knew there were people you might almost trust who would hear them, too, and be amazed, and still not really hear them because they know they were not the ones the words were spoken to.

somewhere, nearby voices filled with dusk, cabs and panhandlers and one drunken girl screeching like a wounded bird - all of it flushed with a warmth and sad beauty I'd never noticed before.

Hanoi's leaders were virtuoso songbirds of propaganda. They lived in a bubble. There were no voices of dissent in their society to check or challenge wishful thinking.

But to me Barset has been a real county, and its city a real city, and the spires and towers have been before my eyes, and the voices of the people are known to my ears, and the pavement of the city ways are familiar to my footsteps.

It's raining women's voices as if they had died even in memory, and it's raining you as well- Marvellous encounters of my life (o little drops!)

The voices would not stop. They were a torment, Her past became a kaleidoscope of shifting images that kept racing through her mind.

For more than a year now, the League of Forgotten Men has warned the politicians, the whole government, that we are sick unto death of being the Dispossessed—and that, at last, we are more than fifty million strong; no whimpering horde, but with the will, the voices, the votes to enforce our sovereignty!

The beauty of the sea is that it never shows any weakness and never tires of the countless souls that unleash their broken voices into its secret depths.

We are all crazy enough to hear the voices but not strong enough to listen

The voices in my head does not likes attitude of some people. I know how to defend myself, but I do not want to hurt their feelings for ease my pain.

Waves are the voices of tides. Tides are life, " murmured Niko. "They bring new food for shore creatures, and take ships out to sea. They are the ocean's pulse, and our own heartbeat.

Guess what often brings about anxiety. The voices in your own head, also known as the inner critic or the critical inner voice.

social healing is made up of spacemoments of resonance, voices touching voices in a common space.

You really should do some research for a change instead of just listening to the voices in your head.

How could such an anomalous, un-Christian practice be tolerated in the Church in the first place? It seems that leaders were not prepared to listen to the prophetic voices raised by conscientious people in the Church.

When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, we hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, and etched on vacant places are half-forgotten faces of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know.

They danced to beat back the fear. They danced after hearing someone else they knew had died in a foreign land or was reported missing in action. They danced to be so exhausted they could sleep. They danced to shut off the voices, the questions, the uncertainty.

The pain has lessened with age, but never goes away. Now the doctors give it a name—endometriosis. Their tone when talking to me is always one of judgmental solemnity, as if this sickness is a curse given to me because I never found a husband, instead of a curse that prevented me from getting one. Or maybe I have always just imagined this in their voices.

The voices of cold reason were talking, as usual, to deaf ears.

What kind of religion would celebrate its High Holidays by reading about a biblical figure as heartless as Abraham—a classic case of paranoid schizophrenia, in Iona's opinion—who nearly killed his son because he heard voices in his head and was rescued from the dirty deed only by other voices?