Quotes About Voices

What a strange fellowship this is, the God seekers in every land, lifting their voices in the most disparate ways imaginable to the God of all life. How does it sound from above? Like bedlam, or do the strains blend in strange ethereal harmony? Does one faith carry the lead or do the parts share in counterpoint and antiphony where not in full throated chorus? We cannot know. All we can do is to listen carefully and with full attention to each voice in turn as it addresses the divine.

The suicide hour of cold coffee and alien voices on the radio.

He remembered questions swarming like flocks of birds, voices filled with consternation, some soft, some sibilant, some somber, some shrill. He remembered that all the questions had been directed at him and that he had answered each and every questioning voice. But he did not know what he had answered. —You will forget, was his final memory. There his history ended, without a future, without a name.

He remembered that all the questions had been directed at him and that he had answered each and every questioning voice. But he did not know what he had answered. —You will forget, was his final memory. There his history ended, without a future, without a name.

Weave, weave, weave, you streaks of rain! I am dissolved and woven again... Thousands of faces rise and vanish before me. Thousands of voices weave in the rain.

And the shadows of tree-trunks and shadows of leaves interlace with low voices and footsteps and sunlight to divide us forever.

Voices" Ideal and dearly beloved voices of those who are dead, or of those who are lost to us like the dead. Sometimes they speak to us in our dreams; sometimes in thought the mind hears them. And for a moment with their echo other echoes return from the first poetry of our lives — like music that extinguishes the far-off night.

Ideal voices and beloved of those who have died, or of those who are lost to us like the dead. Sometimes, within our dreams, they speak; sometimes the mind can hear them in our thoughts. And with their sound for an instant return sounds from the early poetry of our lifelike music in the night, faraway, that fades.

We don't really have a staff room. We do have one, but … it's freezing in there. So at lunch times we sit down there with the children. We're always around, so the relationships are very different. You don't often hear raised voices here.

I need more pieces to the puzzle, but no one is going to hand them to me. I have to find them. Dig them from their hiding places, from the ground and the people. Listen, the road seems to admonish. Listen. I have stories. I close my eyes, and I hear voices. Thousands whispering all at once. I can't make out any single one, but I know they're here. What do they have to say?

Listen, the road seems to admonish. Listen. I have stories. I close my eyes, and I hear voices. Thousands whispering all at once. I can't make out any single one, but I know they're here. What do they have to say?

Late Hours" On summer nights the world moves within earshot on the interstate with its swish and growl, and occasional siren that sends chills through us. Sometimes, on clear, still nights, voices float into our bedroom, lunar and fragmented, as if the sky had let them go long before our birth. In winter we close the windows and read Chekhov, nearly weeping for his world. What luxury, to be so happy that we can grieve over imaginary lives.

While all bodies share the same fate, all voices do not.

What music is more enchanting than the voices of young people, when you can't hear what they say

The silence was gone now, and the night was filled with voices—a chirp, a growl, a twitter—a burst of high-pitched laughter.

To him the magic of their mysteries; To him the book of Night was opened wide, And voices from the deep abyss revealed A marvel and a secret. —Be it so." ? Lord Byron

Surely she'd heard voices like his, so low-pitched as to make every commonplace utterance seem of the deepest intimacy, every cliche a delicious secret.

When the Almighty speaks to men, He always does it in voices they can understand

Handling temper tantrums requires parents with soft voices who don't even try to reason with their misbehaving child.

Back when I was young and still alive there were almost too many gods. You could see them ripple in the water before the lake's ice melted in April, the loons and curlews giving them voice.

These protests have about them an engaging period optimism, depending as they do upon the Rousseauean premise that most people, left to their own devices, think not in cliches but with originality and brilliance; that most individual voices, once heard, turn out to be voices of beauty and wisdom.

We learn best to listen to our own voices if we are listening at the same time to other women-whose stories for all our differences turn out if we listen well to be our stories also.

Many people hear voices when no one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.

We all have voices in our heads which talks to us on an almost constant basis. Our voices give us messages continually, and what they say to us affects us.