Quotes About Whispers

But who ever heeds the voice of reason when love whispers, softly persuasive, in the other ear?

As a man with cut hair, he did not identity the rhythm of three strands, the whispers of coming and going, of twisting and tying and blending, of catching and of letting go, of braiding.

As a man with cut hair, he did not identify the rhythm of three strands, the whispers of coming and going, of twisting and tying and blending, of catching and of letting go, of braiding.

Knockturn Alley

each one of us will face a moment when eternity whispers into our hearts, This is your time.

Move fluidly by earth of water and stop to listen to the wind as it whispers your whereabouts. . . Savour the path and enjoy the sun.

word about her eavesdropping, so long as

History is merely gossip.

And like unoccupied heart's home, You'll fill the fragile shell, With wind, with whispers of the foam, And fog, and rain as well…

You do not know it but you are the talk of all the town.

But many times, the secret-breathing world Whispers to thee, yet whispers with a voice Which memory shall warehouse as a shout;

Rumor exaggerates.

How long did they stay there in that room, on the narrow bed? She had a scar on her shoulder, in the shape of a star, that Louis couldn't help but run his lips over. A souvenir of a fall from a horse. It got dark. They could hear the clattering of hooves, a whinny, and the high-pitched voice of the marquis giving orders at more and more distant intervals, like a motif on a flute, clear and desolate, returning again and again.

See a woman pale as snow? Silent come and silent go. What's their plan? What's their plan? Chandrian. Chandrian.

Words are pale shadows of forgotten names.

Leaves as vowels, whispers of words like a breath of net. Leaves are vowels, I sweep them up hoping to find the combinations I am looking for.

Rumour has a hundred mouths.

Forget the dead, the past? O yet there are ghosts that may take revenge for it, memories that make the heart a tomb, regrets which gild thro' the spirit's gloom, and with ghastly whispers tell that joy, once lost, is pain.

They could hear again the gathering whispers, the swooshes and squeals, the cracks, almost as if the fire were questioning its own intentions and the woods were answering: 'We have been waiting for you our whole lives.

Many in the crowds were whispering about Him. Some said, “He is a good man.” But others replied, “No, He deceives the people.”