Quotes About Keening

Despite their authoritarian light show, those ice-cream trucks of death couldn't do any more for Perkus's murdered infatuation, his crushed crush, than could keening Greek chorus, or a moaning witch doctor.

but from here on I want more crazy mourning, more howl, more keening -from "A Woman Dead in Her Forties

The fanged shadows boiled out behind them, howling for blood, their voices creaking with the sound of snapping bones. The fallen of Hethor's own party seemed to be swept up in the pursuit, dead correct people on their trail, keening, crying, blaming. Rivers of red flowed rapidly across the stone dock in the twilight, slippery sticky blood overtaking their flight to make them trip and slide headfirst into stone bollards or pitch screaming into the sea.

It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes,/rising.

Before Lydia and I could make it to the car, that keening I'd hoped to never hear again began to shred the night air, rising in pitch beyond the range of human ears.

I was always wild territory buried below manicured lawns and once I had ripped pretty flowers from the careful parts of me unearthed keening once I left the whole damn thing open to the sky I touched a place in me too Wild to ever pull weeds again or water plastic grass again or prop the baby tree with sticks again or call my soul cultivated again I was never going down that way

Just then, my phone started ringing. The ring must have been damaged by the water as well, so now it had a high, keening note - kind of the sound I imagine a mermaid might make if you punched her in the face.

I walk through the seasons and always the birds are singing and screaming and keening for love When you're with me it seems so absurd that I should be jealous of the jay and the dove.

I suppose I always find a lot of characters that are deeply, deeply keening with a sense of yearning and desire through sadness, but they have a bravery that keeps them going despite that.

The dogs were really keening now, like Irish widows.

In its wake followed a keening sound that rose from the throats of mourners like the wind.

As if keening on your knees were somehow obscene As if there were a control so marvelous you could teach it to eat pain.