Quotes About Ear

dangling from her ear. "Yeah, and I buy it from the street stall on Lex." "I don't," he said easily. "You take this back." She started to pull

As the Brotherhood got down to business, he found himself putting his hand on the dog's big head and stroking the soft fur…playing with an ear…dipping down and finding the long waves that flowed from the animal's broad, strong chest. Not that any of that meant he was keeping the the animal, of course. It just felt nice, was all.

The more of my readers I encounter who say, often apologetically, that they are actually listeners, the more I write for the ear rather than the eye. Small things like identifying speakers in dialogue rather than relying on paragraphing to mark the shifts.

Well, I have a Norwegian father who emigrated to America in the 1950s, and he still speaks with varying degrees of an accent. Over my lifetime my ear has been well-tuned to that accent. Any first generation kid has that wonderful gift from their parents.

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.

I find that classical music helps put me in a place that is very calming and allows me to express emotion through my body. I played clarinet as a child, so I guess I have a bit of a musical ear.

I am not musically educated yet. I don't read - I make my own language that works for myself. But I play by ear.

The fact that I wasn't expected to read music at all and was absorbing everything by ear... it had a huge affect on the kind of musician that I became.

You have to learn a few things, which you do along the way, but basically, poetry is a matter of the ear. Iambic pentameters or what constitutes a stanza comes naturally - your ears will know.

Hey, Barry, climb off, motherfucker, I'm up next, then it's Jeff's turn. I put it on the board. Blue, don't let him do that to your ear, baby, you won't hear for a month.

Death stands above me, whispering low I know not what into my ear: Of his strange language all I know Is, there is not a word of fear.

ELECTED Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear.

Onca kulak var, ama beyin çok az.

Drifting on the black, rippling surface were fingers. Thumbs. Dozens of them. Hundreds, floating like dead fish in a dynamited pond. I saw part of an ear. The lights went out.

My uncle gave me a trumpet, but I loved the Louis Armstrong sound and the Harry James sound and I played by ear and I played always soulful or very direct from the gut.

The hoary judge put his mouth close to his ear, panted for a moment, made the announcement and slowly moved away, as though ungluing himself.

NOISE, n. A stench in the ear. Undomesticated music. The chief product and authenticating sign of civilization.

A statesman who keeps his ear permanently glued to the ground will have neither elegance of posture nor flexibility of movement.

I can't read a note of music. I just do it all from ear.

My third day playing saxophone, I was in front of a congregation. I still didn't know the names of all the notes. I was playing by ear, following along, but it was such an encouraging environment, I couldn't fail. It was all, 'Yeah baby, you sound real good' no matter what you play. It was a great way to learn.

For the past two days I've been on the river with an Oxford don who quotes Herodotus, a lovesick young man who quotes Tennyson, a bulldog, and a cat," I said. "I played it by ear.

The book she had been reading was under her pillow, pressing its cover against her ear as if to lure her back into its printed pages.

Franklin was worried that his fondness for conversation and eagerness to impress made him prone to "prattling, punning and joking, which only made me acceptable to trifling company." Knowledge, he realized, "was obtained rather by the use of the ear than of the tongue." So in the Junto, he began to work on his use of silence and gentle dialogue.

An enthusiastic reader of English poetry, Lincoln forgot or ignored Dryden's warning from "Astraea Redux": "An horrid stillness first invades the ear,/ And in that silence we the tempest fear.