There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.
I’ve had the pleasure of hearing The Novelists perform live. They are gifted songwriters and talented musicians with strong lead voices. This is a band with lots of heart & soul.
I speak in a loud, clear voice and try not to bump into the furniture.
Amaryllis in Blueberry is a rich, evocative story about an unusual family that will sweep readers away to another place and time. Amaryllis's voice is a spellbinding and unique blend of naivet and wisdom. A perfect melding of family saga, murder mystery and a meditation on faith, loyalty and love, this novel will both haunt and entertain you.
The harmonica is the most voice-like instrument, you can make it wail, feel happy, or cry. It's like singing the blues without words.
Sometimes I heard voices muttering in my head, and a lot of the time the world seemed to smolder around its edges. but I was in a little better physical shape every day, I was getting my looks back, and my spirits were rising, and this was all in all a happy time for me. All these weirdos, and me getting a little better right in the midst of them. I had never known, never even imagined for a heartbeat, that there might be a place for people like us.
As I watched the pulsing fire among the trees and heard the beat of the drum merge and tremble with the voices, forming an intricate pattern of sound, I knew that someday I would have to return or be haunted forever by the beauty and mystery that is Africa.
How dare the smooth talkers, the clever official blabbers, open their mouths and boast of progress. . . . Here they hold jubilant peace conferences in which they talk against war. . . . But the same righteous Governments, who are so nobly, industriously active to establish the eternal peace, are preparing, by their own confession, complete annihilation for six million people, and there is nobody, except the doomed themselves, to raise his voice in protest although this is a worse crime than any war . . .
The act of giving voice to this spiritual suffering is, in my view, the sacred duty of the writer.
Some may want to shout on the street, but we should tolerate those who hide in their rooms and use literature to voice their opinions.
You can criticize any news staff in some ways, but the one thing that you couldn't call the Village Voice staff was a staff of stenographers, taking notes from public figures and just passing them on.
We all have an inner teacher, an inner guide, an inner voice that speaks very clearly but usually not very loudly. That information can be drowned out by the chatter of the mind and the pressure of day-to-day events. But if we quiet down the mind, we can begin to hear what we're not paying attention to. We can find out what's right for us.
A man like Wilde was not free to live out of the closet as a homosexual, and women in general were not able to be truly themselves; there was no place for a woman's voice to be heard or for her to express her sexuality.
As a matter of fact," the other voice went on, "if you do tie her up from time to time, or whip her just a little, and she begins to like it, that's no good either. You have to get past the pleasure stage, until you reach the stage of tears.
I find that when I get casual in my relationships with divinity and when it seems that no divine ear is listening and no divine voice is speaking, that I am far, far away. If I immerse myself in the scriptures the distance narrows and the spirituality returns. I find myself loving more intensely those whom I must love with all my heart and mind and strength, and loving them more, I find it easier to abide their counsel.
It is your own assent to yourself, and the constant voice of your own reason, and not of others, that should make you believe.
The normal citizen looked at us and saw a mixture of gangster, hippy, criminal and ape. Once somebody rang us up with a nice voice and asked if they could do a feature article on us about how a commune works. They came and asked us questions, took our photos and disappeared. One week later the article appeared and it said: 'This kind of community stinks and if this is the future of Germany then we need Adolf back.'
In the midst of our applauding the feats of civilization, the Bible flings itself like a knife slashing our complacency; remind us that God, too, has a voice in history.
True poetry ought to be secret and clandestine, concealed like a prohibited voice of dissent, while at the same time it should speak to everyone.
You were my strength when I was weak; you were my voice when I couldn't speak; you were my eyes when I couldn't see; you saw the best there was in me; lifted me up when I couldn't reach, you gave me faith cuz you believed. I'm everything I am because you loved me.
I've sung my whole life. I've taken lots of voice lessons and I love to sing. But I've never really sung professionally at all.
Here at the sea---especially at the sea---I could hear my sister’s voice in the waves: “Kira-kira! Kira-kira!
My protagonists are my mother's voice and the mind I had when I was thirteen.
The voice is always in my head. In fact I aspire to be more like Mario. What could be better than rescuing and falling in love with a princess, right? Someone who faces every challenge in life with a cheerful Wahoo! In London a bike messenger stopped me and said ‘You’re the bloke who does Mario’ on an escalator. So naturally I go ‘Wahooooo’ all the way up the stairs.
Albert Camus, a great humanist and existentialist voice, pointed out that to commit to a just cause with no hope of success is absurd. But then, he also noted that not committing to a just cause is equally absurd. But only one choice offers the possibility for dignity. And dignity matters. Dignity matters.
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