Quotes About Humming

She was humming something melancholy and familiar. I strained to make it out—a folk song? a lullabye?—and then realized it was the theme to M*A*S*H. Suicide is painless. I went downstairs.

I think there ought to be a little music here: hum, hum.

the smell of resin filled the air. A thrush was singing somewhere. Late harebells were thick among the grass, and small blue butterflies moved over the white flowers of the blackberry. There was a hive of wild bees under the roof of the chapel; their humming filled the air, the sound of summer's end. Through

The rest of the house is silent. Is funny how you don't notice silence most of the time. But silence is a sound in itself, a-true. Silence is the humming absence of a tangible sound that you can ascribe to something. Actually, you only really experience silence when you dead, although that theory is hypothetical and not one I'd like to put to the test.

Yvonne started humming the QuickGo jingle, one of those torturous tunes that enters through the ear canal and proceeds to ricochet around the skull in search of an escape route it will never find.

Sarah shifted on the bench. I worried she was winding up to say something, that Sky would start humming now, that the fright spring-coiled inside me would break loose. Then I remembered the widow dress I was wearing. I made a sound with my lips like I was trying to give him an answer, but choking on the words, seized by my grief, and I didn't have to pretend that much. I felt sorrow for my life, for what I'd lived and seen and known, for what was lost to me, and the weeping turned real.

The only thing worse than opera is someone who hums along with opera.

Her humming became the only sound in the park. Her voice moved across the bench like a mutilated child. And I cried. For myself. For this woman talkin' about love. For all the women who have ever stretched their bodies out anticipating civilization and finding ruins.

My dad says I could sing before I could talk, if that's possible. I was always humming and things like that.

Hope means to keep living amid desperation and to keep humming in the darkness.

The stillness of the calm is awful. His voice begins to grow strange and portentous. He feels it in him like something swallowed too big for the esophagus. It keeps up a sort of involuntary interior humming in him, like a live beetle. His cranium is a dome full of reverberations. The hollows of his very bones are as whispering galleries. He is afraid to speak loud, lest he be stunned; like the man in the bass drum.

Puff, at her desk, happily humming to herself.

So for a while, they sat peacefully in the swamp, listening to Mrs. Starch hum while the little panther slurped happily and the emerald leaves overhead shimmered and shook in the sunlight.

By TERRY BROOKS ONE HUMMING TUNELESSLY, THE RAGPICKER WALKED THE barren, empty wasteland in the aftermath of the rainstorm.

one, with fixed blinds inserted, in place of upper panels. The isolated subterraneousness of the cabin made a certain humming silence to reign there, though it was hooped round by all the roar of the elements. The loaded muskets in the rack were shiningly revealed

I couldn't see him but I could hear him snoring softly, humming, like a little airplane lost in the clouds.

warned that an invasion called off one October might easily take place the next. Yes, it was better to be safe than sorry. Bill began to hum a popular tune of the moment – I found my thrill, on Blueberry Hill – and smiled to himself. Libby had been disappointed when the telegram had arrived putting off her Christmas visit to Liverpool, especially as it would have meant seeing her beloved father after so many months apart.

Beneath the chirp of cicadas, I can practically hear the energy between us humming, like the power lines that buzz overhead in a countryside

Basically, my mother couldn't hold a tune and when I was a baby, a rather tactless baby, I would ask her not to sing... you can't get to sleep if someone is singing off key nearby.

You always will be singing a song or humming a line or a melody.

And the great spirit of darkness spread a shroud over me...everything was silent-everything. But upon the heights soughed the everlasting song, the voice of the air, the distant, toneless humming which is never silent.

We are all susceptible to the pull of viral ideas. Like mass hysteria. Or a tune that gets into your head that you keep on humming all day until you spread it to someone else. Jokes. Urban legends. Crackpot religions. Marxism. No matter how smart we get, there is always this deep irrational part that makes us potential hosts for self-replicating information.

Maybe Grodzenski was showing me, with his quiet pride, the reason he hummed a little while he worked.

You are spiky spring Humming Summer, wings that beat Back ghosts of winter.