Quotes About Sounds

I collect many ethnic instruments, and as a guitarist, I'm usually able to play any sort of instrument - as long as it has strings. That's why I like to experiment with different sounds.

in the woods, if you stopped, if you grew still, you'd hear a whole new set of sounds, wind rasping through silhouetted leaves and the cries and chatter of blue jays and brown thrashers and redbirds and sparrows, the calling of crows and hawks, squirrels barking, frogs burping, the far braying of dogs, armadillos snorkeling through dead leaves...

Art has a unique capacity to take one or other facet of the message and translate it into colors, shapes and sounds which nourish the intuition of those who look and listen.

The music is all around us, all you have to do is listen.

At 3:14 A.M. I am awakened by a loud crashing sound, caused by workers from the city's crack Department of Making Loud Crashing Sounds during the Night, who are just outside my window, breaking in a new taxicab by dropping it repeatedly from a 75-foot crane. Lying in bed listening to them, I can hardly wait for …

The first thing the boy Garion remembered was the kitchen at Faldor's farm. For all the rest of his life he had a special warm feeling for kitchens and those peculiar sounds and smells that seemed somehow to combine into a bustling seriousness that had to do with love and food and comfort and security and, above all, home. No matter how high Garion rose in life, he never forgot that all his memories began in that kitchen.

For all the rest of his life he had a special warm feeling for kitchens and those peculiar sounds and smells that seemed somehow to combine into a bustling seriousness that had to do with love and food and comfort and security and, above all, home.

It was impossible. It was like something out of The Matrix. I don't know what-all sounds were involved, but my spouse says she hurried in and there was popcorn all over the couch and I was down on one knee and my eyeballs looked like novelty-shop eyeballs.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.

By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods; since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, but music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night and his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.

And in thy best consideration check This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgement Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least, Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds Reverb no hollowness.

No temas; la isla está llena de sonidos y músicas suaves que deleitan y no dañan. Unas veces resuena en mi oído el vibrar de mil instrumentos, y otras son voces que, si he despertado tras un largo sueño, de nuevo me hacen dormir. Y, al soñar, las nubes se me abren mostrando riquezas a punto de lloverme, así que despierto y lloro por seguir soñando. (Calibán)

carriages coming along the street

Dawn stations, with a steel light, and waxen figures. / Dust, stone, and clanking sounds, hiss of weary steam. / Night stations, shaded light, fading pools of colour. / Shadows and the shuffling of a million feet /… The station clock with staggering hand and the callous face, / says twenty-five-to-nine

The great mass of breath is the wind, yet there are times when the wind does not move. When it does move, a myriad of orifices and appendages are aroused to make sounds. Have you never listened to the sound of the wind in the cavities, mountains and among the branches of trees? The wind blows in a thousand different ways, but each sound is produced in its own way. What is it that excites all this, and makes each way be itself, and all these things be self-produced?

Eu não sou um intelectual, escrevo com o corpo. E o que escrevo é uma névoa úmida. As palavras são sons transfundidos de sombras que se entrecruzam desiguais, estalactites, renda, música transfigurada de órgão.

The dark membrane contained also a dark fire of such horror that I was unable to perceive it properly. The horror buffeted the dark membrane with a massive impact of sounds and storms and sharp stones great and small.2 Whenever the noise arose it set in motion the layer of bright fire, winds and air, thus causing bolts of lightning to presage the sounds of thunder; for the fiery energy senses the first agitations of the thunder within it.

Underneath all the texts, all the sacred psalms and canticles, these watery varieties of sounds and silences, terrifying, mysterious, whirling and sometimes gestating and gentle must somehow be felt in the pulse, ebb, and flow of the music that sings in me. My new song must float like a feather on the breath of God.

One of the masked women imitates the sounds she hears and the ubiquitous tune, as she sways and runs her hand through her hair. A rutting mare, a slender block of ice, warm for others but not for herself, she seems to be split in two: fire from the waist down, straight lines above. Growing more sensual by the minute, more labile and smiling, her mask redder, flame is her nest, the flash of her eyes stony gray.

With my trumpet voice, I love gritty, plunger, growly sounds. But vocally, I love Anita O'Day - a raspier but definitely softer sound. Part of the fun has been finding vehicles or writing for both of those sounds.

What is American music? The most satisfying answer I've come across is that it was a kind of natural comfort with the vernacular which is diverse and regional; it's not one particular set of sounds.

Oh, happy triumph of the poet! - to hear his verses wedded to sweet sounds, and warbled by the woman he loves!

I like the sounds of EDM; the guys create new sounds, beautiful sounds. The melodies, it's a little less. I like the kind of melodies I did with Donna Summer, or 'Flashdance,' where you have a verse, a chorus - a song setup.

Vowels were something else. He didn't like them and they didn't like him. There were only five of them, but they seemed to be everywhere. Why, you could go through twenty words without bumping into some of the shyer consonants, but it seemed as if you couldn't tiptoe past a syllable without waking up a vowel. Consonants, you know pretty much where you stood, but you could never trust a vowel.