Sound Quotes - Page 2

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds:And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleasedWith melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave;Some chord in unison with what we hearIs touch'd within us, and the heart replies.

Do not trap yourself into an owl's hooting soundwhere sad nights linger through the blackness of a hound

Every step you take, every breath, every conversation, your calling is center stage. There is no longer a piece here and a piece there, but there is wholeness. The sound of your voice and the sound of your life have come together.

The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.

Music is the sound of unspoken thoughts.

Like color, every SOUND is composed of many different frequenciesand can be used to clear, balance and refresh the field in which youfound yourself, or on which you are working.

There is no competition of sounds between a nightingale and a violin.

Tick. Tick. Tick. This is the sound of your life running out.

Ella!" the voice yells, but I cannot tell where it is coming from. The sound wraps around me, spreading like spilt water and then evaporating into silence.

Until writing was invented, man lived in acoustic space: boundless, directionless, horizonless, in the dark of the mind, in the world of emotion, by primordial intuition, by terror. Speech is a social chart of this bog.

Talking doesn't mean you have said something. What really matters is the message your words carry, not the sound, but the reveberation it causes on the soul.

It’s not enough to hear someone else’s voice or to sing someone else’s song or to play the note that you heard someone else play. I had to tune into my sound and by doing so, I have recovered not only the sound of my voice but the sound of my life.

In every sound, the hidden silence sleeps.

The rain is falling ever harder and all I can hear is the sound of the water. I'm drenched but I can't move.

His voice was cloves and nightingales, it took us to spice markets in the Celebs, we drifted with him on a houseboat beyond the Coral Sea. We were like cobras following a reed flute.

The first music I ever heard was only one hundred and sixty days after I was conceived. Da dum Da dum Da dum Have you ever heard the sound a blessing makes? This is it. The first thing I ever saw was only one hundred and eighty days after I was conceived. It was a bright light soft like clouds warm like candles. Have you ever seen the colour of a blessing? This is it. The first time I ever suffered was in the three thousand and sixty seconds after I was born. I listened for her heartbeat. I searched for her light. I cried for the first time until she was born. Have you ever known a blessing? A twin is it.

Music shouldn't be just a tune, it should be a touch.

The trouble with poetry is it's often written to the sound of a drum only the poet may hear; nonetheless, blessed are those poets who always manage to find unshakeable pleasure in their own works.

Prayers are like the powerful sounds of trumpets. When God's people come together and pray, the walls that challenge progress will fall.

I collect words--they are sweets in the mouth of sound.

Now, Emily didn't make a sound. There was something more defining about the soundless reality that condemned the paradigm of passion.

Your name still rings a bell when you say something good, not by causing catastrophe in a bid to sound more interesting.

The endlessness of the extent of that whistle resulted, without a doubt, also in an enormous metaphysical knowledge of the art of whistling, which mingled, not just with the hearing of people, but extended, in an incisive manner, to the depths of their souls, the protected corner where each one hid their things- that frightening cave, which many call the centre of their being.

Music is a mixed mathematical science that concerns the origens, attributes, and distinctions of sound, out of which a cultivated and lovely melody and harmony are made, so that God is honored and praised but mankind is moved to devotion, virtue, joy, and sorrow.

Silence stands between the trees, waiting for the wind's roar.

Sometimes, when people speak, I cease listening to their words and zoom in instead on the cadence, and it can seem lovely, and at other times absurd, all this verbiage, these seemingly random consonants clattering on the string that is sound.

Times goes far a lot of I still remember my father what he said in January "Books aren't important" March 27 he died (suicided!).... ANd what has left me??A lot of great people died this year, privous and every other which will come, believe or not the heart can't take it!Only it can take it, if it reads books, watches films and does this which make this person to be out of the humanity once out, never sound hear, never sad.

Language and hearing are seated in the cerebral cortex, the folded gray matter that covers the first couple of millimeters of the outer brain like wrapping paper. When one experiences silence, absent even reading, the cerebral cortex typically rests. Meanwhile, deeper and more ancient brain structures seem to be activated--the subcortical zones. People who live busy, noisy lives are rarely granted access to these areas. Silence, it appears, is not the opposite of sound. It is another world altogether, literally offering a deeper level of thought, a journey to the bedrock of the self.

I see you better in music, I hear you better in wind, I feel you more in a flooding moonlight, that understands nothing, but darkness and silence.

Be as fierce as a lion. Let the world hear you roar.

It is deep January. The sky is hard.The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.It is in this solitude, a syllable,Out of these gawky flitterings,Intones its single emptiness,The savagest hollow of winter-sound.

Well, there would be no sound if we shout on the background.

Only tears can hear the sound of pain when warm blood reddens discolored stain

Music is exciting and easy to enjoy, the rhythm and voice.It does not need interpretation. That is why it is called the Universal Language.

His whisper was the softest sound I ever knew, which seemed to bring the loudest heartbeat.

It's the sound of the sea that makes you believe in mermaids.

My body is an ugly masterpiece that lives off the beauty of sound.

Wisdom got sound. It is called silence

Some people think everyone should be the same as them:Look, dress, sound and act just like them.

Have you ever heard a blindfolded octopus unwrap a cellophane-covered bathtub?

For the gaming fishermen there was the Whatoosie River and its native cocka-snoek, the main game fish of the resident Skegg’s Valley Dynamite Fishing Club. Cocka-snoek were wily and tough and rather too bright for mere fish. You wouldn’t catch much with a rod around here. Many inexperienced visitors would find the bait stolen from their hooks, which punctuated the discovery that their lines had somehow got snagged and tangled irretrievably around some underwater obstruction – sometimes tied together with neat little bows. Often, several direct hits with hand grenades were needed to stun the creatures long enough just to catch them, gut them and fry them, but these former military types had become experts at it. For a modest fee, tours could be arranged via the booking office, which included an overnight stay on the banks of the river where one could drop off to a great night’s sleep after a satisfying meal of cocka-snoek done on an open fire, and the sound the bits of shrapnel made rattling in your stomach.

On building homes for fallen angels:When I was small - I sought a home,a place to go and rest my bones.Then founded something, of my own,I lived among the restless stones.If seeking leads you back to evil,what good is that, I asked a weevil.He said a home is what you make,it can't be real, if it is fake...And if you wait instead of seek,will you find love, or something bleak?I know (myself) for I have found,a beauty, hidden – in a sound.Waiting is boring.And so is exploring.A smile is sometimes all it takes.And then your whole world simply breaks.

The 'magic' is the known and unknown quiet, spiritual, invisible thread which links and reveals harmonic elements to a universe of high vibrational sensory. And our beloved Bro. Maurice David knew it's undeniable creative power, from within.

How I wish I was like the water,Flowing so freely with every dropLet my every emotion wonder,No need to start, nor even stopHow I wish I was like the fire,Burning with every flame upLeaving a trace of hot desireAs a Phoenix raises its' wings upHow I wish I was like the earth,Raising each flower from the groundSeeing the beauty of death and birthAnd then returning to the groundHow I wish I was like the wind,Hearing each whisper, sound and thoughtA lonesome and wandering little wind,Shattering all that has been soughtOh, how I wish I was where you are,Not separated by empty space, so farIt seems like we're galaxies apart,But we find hope within our heartAnd how I wish I was all of the above,So I can come below and yet forget,The beauty of angels which come down like a doveAnd demons who love with no regret.

It was cold and barren. It was no longer the view that I remembered. The sunshine of her presence was far from me. The charm of her voice no longer murmured in my ear.

Wouldn't it be nice if there weree a planet where the sound of rain falling is like Bach?" he says."Yes, Planet Bach," I respond.He smiles -"Yes", he murmurs- picturing it, hearing it.

I told myself 'Everything is a being! The shout that passes into the air is an entity like an animal, since it is born, produces a movement, and is again transformed, in order to die. So the fearful mind that believes in incorporeal beings is not wrong. What are they?

When we take the time to break free from the tyranny of Time and learn to listen to the sound of unspoken words, we discern the hot air behind the frenzy of the wheeling and dealing around. (“Wheeling and dealing »)

There is a whisper of light, if you can hear Louder than sound of darknessyou never fear

Recovery is most often associated with some type of illness, addiction or mental health issue. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the struggle of getting back to where you were before the sound went out.

Far from such din, when blessed silence returns, I can listen to the butterflies that flutter inside my head. To hear them, one must be calm and pay close attention, for their wingbeats are barely audible. Loud breathing is enough to drown them out. This is astonishing: my hearing does not improve, yet I hear them better and better. I must have butterfly hearing.

Can you start a movement in your land that will encourage men and women to begin to think, to begin to make sound judgment and informed decisions? Will you bring illumination to your people? Will you facilitate understanding amidst those whom you live with? The earth is crying for people who make sound judgment and informed decisions

To transform a grimace into a sound sounds impossible, yet it is possible to transform a vision into music, to go outside an enslaved personality, to become impersonal by transforming into sand, into water, into light.

Strains of music spring up, crystallizing in the night air like rain turning suddenly to snow, drifting to earth.

He is deaf, and keen to accept,any economical operation,that will correct his situation.He visited the doctor best,and started talking on subject,like the after-effects, and if any threats.The doctor medically checked,and asked him what he expects?He expressed, he wants to be addressed-in words, and not in signs.And how keen he is, to have his ears listening.He wants to listen the echo of,sun-set over that crimson dawn.He is keen to know, the sound of,a blooming rose.He wants to know what it sounds like,when a seedling grows.But Doctor- if you say: You are incapable,then I better get away,for then there is- nothing worth to be heard,in your seemingly wordy world.

when there is no sound mind in the society people are compromised in their judgement

when there is no sound mind in the society people's thinking and their decisions, don’t always follow the natural flow of logic, because the society and the culture of the land has polluted the minds of ordinary people

In your most desperate moments where you crawl on the ground like worms, sometimes you suddenly hear the voice of a savior, the voice of the Music which immediately carries you away to the stars!

Owning the sound--Wow!--that is what brings joy to every step. That is what causes people to wake up every morning excited about their day. That is what leaves them energized rather than exhausted like before. There is a sound. And as your coach, I help you to go from cosigning on everybody else’s sound to owning your own sound.

Water begins to boil in the kettle; it starts as a private, secluded sound, pure as rain, and grows to a steady, solipsistic bubbling.