Quotes About Sounds

The left hemisphere is sequential; the right hemisphere is simultaneous. Consider another dimension of the alphabetic mind: it processes sounds and symbols in sequence. When you read this sentence, you begin with the "when," move to the "you," and decode every letter, every syllable, every word in progression. This, too, is an ability at which your brain's left hemisphere excels.

Similarly with pitch: From a one-dimensional continuum of molecules vibrating at different speeds, our brains construct a rich, multidimensional pitch space with three, four, or even five dimensions (according to some models). If our brain is adding this many dimensions to what is out there in the world, this can help explain the deep reactions we have to sounds that are properly constructed and skillfully combined.

Moving to L.A., I got really into hip-hop and trap music and basically a lot of the sounds you would maybe normally see in a festival, but for whatever reason, I was so involved in vinyl and house at the time, I didn't even know that I liked trap.

I have a longing for violin or organ. Is it too simple to say those sustaining sounds symbolise immortality?

River that must turn full after I stop dying Song, my song, raise grief to music Light as my loves' thought, the few sick So sick of wrangling: thus weeping, Sounds of light, stay in her keeping And my son's face - this much for honor.

Electronic music used pure sounds, completely calibrated. You had to think digitally, as it were, in a way that allowed you to extend serial ideas into other parameters through technology.

Nature impelled men to make sounds with their tongues And they found it useful to give names to things Much for the same reason that we see children now Have recourse to gestures because they cannot speak And point their fingers at things which appear before them.

How flat all sounds are at the seaside, flat and yet emphatic, like the sound of gunshots heard at a distance.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. This was nothing like the kind of quiet he heard when he woke up in the middle of the night after a bad dream. When that happened, there were always strange, unidentifiable sounds seeping into his room from the tiny gaps where the windowpanes weren't sealed together correctly. At those moments he could always tell there was life outside, even if all that life was fast asleep. It was a silence that wasn't silence at all.

Their wet cold faces, her shapeless nose and his grotesque hooked nose like the caricature-mask of a Roman soldier, their large, contorted, abnormal mouths, made, it might seem, more for anguished curses against God than for the sweet usage of lovers, were now pressed savagely against each other and, as they kissed, queer sounds came from both their throats, that were answered by the groanings of the tree and by the raindrops as the wind shook it.

I never knew the sounds of love could sing so sweet till the day you gave your beautiful heart to me.

I have to do my job, so then yeah, maybe in time I can be a legend. But to have those positive sounds from the fans and the legends that talk about me, I'm grateful for that.

I listen to loads of different music all the time.

Love is like sounds, whose last reverberations / Hang on the leaves of strange trees, on mountains / As distant as the curving of the earth, / Where the snow hangs still in the middle of the air. -from Love is Like Sounds

Thudd pointed out the birds that flashed through the trees—screaming orange-and-green king parrots, black riflebirds that made a sound like a gunshot, and green catbirds that meowed.

The words are all around but the words are only sounds and no one ever seems to listen.

Friskies was noisy food, all hard little pellets. He enjoyed the crackling sounds and supposed the cat did too. He thought that they probably reminded her of tiny bones breaking, of who she was down deep.

The sound of his sleep, the snores and sighs and small noices, is company.

Nature's role is to arrest Man's attention so he can hear that Voice from Heaven. And it has often worked as each of us has many times yielded to holy messages when absorbed by sounds or scenes in Nature. In those moments the rational processes pause, and a deeper consciousness awakens.

I felt his voice. Fingers rubbing moss. Smoke curling. Wood worn and smoothed over time. His voice had darkness in it that hovered close to the ground, like a mist hanging over a lake deep in a forest at dusk. A bolt of sea-green velvet. A sensation as much as a series of sounds. It reverberated inside me.

Her slippers went fitik, fitik, sliss, fitik, on the floors. They were soft sounds, like the sounds mouths make when they open and close.

This is a writer's lesson: To learn that the sounds that we imagine can be the clearest, loudest sounds of all.

I am a shadow now, alas! alas! Upon the skirts of human-nature dwelling Alone: I chant alone the holy mass, While little sounds of life are round me knelling, And glossy bees at noon do fieldward pass, And many a chapel bell the hour is telling, 310 Paining me through: those sounds grow strange to me, And thou art distant in Humanity.