Best 3266 quotes in «sound quotes» category

There was a sound you could smell / like you were inhaling tomorrow.

The sound of the words as they're said is always different from the sound they make when they're heard, because the speaker hears some of the sound from the inside

The top easily preventable health problems that I see in western societies are: 1. Eating chemically grown food. 2. Exposure to electronically generated harmonic energy from wind and solar power systems. 3. Exposure to harmonic energy from switched mode power supplies (SMPS) that come with modern electronic products. 4. Exposure to wireless radio frequency radiation (RF). 5. Light deficiency from an indoor lifestyle and Low-E double glazed windows. 6. Sound deficiency from heavily insulated homes that are devoid of natural sounds and are extremely quiet. 7. Pollen deficiency from living in man-made cities that are devoid of natural levels of pollen. 8. Natural radiation deficiency from living in homes that block natural levels of environmental radiation. 9. Open drain sickness that occurs when drain traps dry out and faulty vent valves that allow sewer gas to fill the home. 10. Drinking the wrong type of water.

THE TRUTH OF THE VERY SMALL When he is born, a baby's head is filled with the knowledge of space. The circumference of his skull is as infinite as the twirlings of the universe. His eyes look out with the blur of eyes which see for all species. He has remembered his own nature from past patterns. Now his heart beats through rock, sky, oceans. He feels the silence and the sound all around the world beneath his skin. We all hold somewhere deep within us the truth we accepted in innocence. The seas, the forests, the soil, the atmosphere, are all vital parts of an ongoing system. By harming any part of it we must ultimately harm ourselves. It is that simple.

The world, full of past sound, would be like the sky, full of past light. The world would be like the mind, for which there is no once.

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

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.

Until you can allow yourself to feel without fear of criticism, rejection or abandonment--even self imposed fear--you will not and cannot hear the sound of your voice or the sound of your life.

Wachawi hivi ndivyo wanavyoapishwa na kuikana imani ya Kikristo: Mwanafunzi hupelekwa kilingeni katika siku maalumu kuonana na Shetani, pamoja na jopo la wachawi. Shetani hutokea katika mwili wa hewa, mwili uliochanganyikana na hewa na mvuke mzito, wa mwanamume na kuwasihi waishikilie imani yao kwake kwa mioyo yao yote, huku akiwaahidi utajiri na maisha marefu kama hawatamkana. Kisha wachawi wanampendekeza mwanafunzi kwa Shetani. Shetani humuuliza mwanafunzi kama yuko tayari kuikana imani yake, kuachana na Ukristo na kutokumwabudu Mwanamke Aliyebarikiwa Kuliko Wanawake Wote Duniani Maria Magdalena, na kutoziheshimu sakaramenti za aina zote. Mwanafunzi atakapokubaliana na masharti hayo, Shetani atanyoosha mkono wake na kumsihi mwanafunzi anyooshe wa kwake. Kwa mkono wake mwenyewe, mwanafunzi ataapa na kuweka agano na Shetani mbele ya jopo la wachawi. Baada ya hapo bila kuchelewa Shetani ataendelea na kusema kuwa hicho kiapo hakitoshi. Lakini mwanafunzi atakapouliza afanye kitu gani cha ziada, Shetani atahitaji kiapo kifuatacho kwa heshima yake na kwa heshima ya mashetani wote: Mwanafunzi ajikabidhi kwa Shetani kwa mwili na kwa roho yake yote daima dawamu, na afanye kila awezalo kuleta wanafunzi wengine wa kike na wa kiume katika ufalme wake. Kama hiyo haitoshi Shetani ataongeza kuwa lazima mwanafunzi atengeneze mafuta fulani kutokana na mifupa na viungo vya miili ya watoto, hasa watoto waliobatizwa, kwani kwa kufanya hivyo atamtimizia kila kitu atakachokitaka hapa duniani. Hiyo ni njia mojawapo ya kiapo. Njia nyingine ya kiapo ni kwa wale ambao hawajiamini au wana hofu ya kuonana na Shetani uso kwa uso kilingeni, akiwa na mwili wa kimazingaombwe na sauti ya kutisha kwani Shetani hana mapafu wala hana ulimi. Badala ya kilingeni mwanafunzi hupelekwa kanisani na jopo la wachawi ambapo mbele ya jopo atalazimishwa kuikana imani yake, kumkana Yesu Kristo, kuukana ubatizo na kulikana kanisa zima kwa ujumla wake. Mwanafunzi baada ya hapo atalazimishwa kutoa heshima kuu kwa Mfalme Mdogo, kwani hivyo ndivyo wanavyomwita Shetani ili kumwondolea mwanafunzi hofu, kisha atalazimishwa kunywa supu ya mtoto mchanga waliyemuua akazikwa kisha wakamfukua na kupika viungo vya mwili wake; na dakika hiyo mwanafunzi atapata maarifa, maarifa ya kichawi, kama walimu wake na watarudi nyumbani.

The siblings' father stood in the doorway of the library and said something they never forgot. "Children," he said, "There is no worse sound in the world than somebody who cannot play the violin who insists on doing so anyway.

They scribble on notepads, the sound of their pens scratching the judgemental air.

To witness a fallen tree, but hear no sound......creates an illusion of its importance.

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.

We are light, sound, color, and form living a physical reality. Add the element of love and you have everything.

We found, before the hands of the dial had taught us the lapse of a week, that this would be something not to be endured. The sun sank lower every day behind the crags and silvery horns; the heavens grew to wear a hue of violet, almost black, and yet unbearably dazzling; as the notes of our voices fell upon the atmosphere they assumed a metallic tone, as if the air itself had become frozen from the beginning of the world and they tinkled against it; our sufferings had mounted in their intensity till they were too great to be resisted.

We may now briefly enumerate the elements of style.  We have, peculiar to the prose writer, the task of keeping his phrases large, rhythmical, and pleasing to the ear, without ever allowing them to fall into the strictly metrical: peculiar to the versifier, the task of combining and contrasting his double, treble, and quadruple pattern, feet and groups, logic and metre—harmonious in diversity: common to both, the task of artfully combining the prime elements of language into phrases that shall be musical in the mouth; the task of weaving their argument into a texture of committed phrases and of rounded periods—but this particularly binding in the case of prose: and, again common to both, the task of choosing apt, explicit, and communicative words.  We begin to see now what an intricate affair is any perfect passage; how many faculties, whether of taste or pure reason, must be held upon the stretch to make it; and why, when it is made, it should afford us so complete a pleasure.  From the arrangement of according letters, which is altogether arabesque and sensual, up to the architecture of the elegant and pregnant sentence, which is a vigorous act of the pure intellect, there is scarce a faculty in man but has been exercised.  We need not wonder, then, if perfect sentences are rare, and perfect pages rarer. -ON SOME TECHNICAL ELEMENTS OF STYLE IN LITERATURE

What chance combination of shadow and sound and his own thoughts had created it?

We must not only observe but listen to the sound of nature.

What is sound but vibration carried over air? An endless and invisible tide that strikes our eardrums throughout our entire lives. It is overwhelming to think of the cacophony around us. Even the womb isn’t quiet; we hear the whoosh of our mother’s blood, the drumming of her heart, the growl of her stomach, and her voice – reverberated by fluid – until it vibrates inside each of our tiny bones.

Without sound, There would be no music. And without music, There would be no life. And without a life force, There would be no matter. But it does not matter - Because what is matter, If there is no light?

When Arecibo is not listening to anything else, it hears the voice of creation.

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

When listening to the lightning storms in your area on a standard AM radio, you will hear a sound like bacon frying and this is the electromagnetic energy that the storm is generating. Plants react to this energy and may show vigorous growth during lightning seasons.

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

When water is being filled in a pot, the sound we hear is a function of the pot, not of the water. Same water makes different sounds in different pots. Each of us, described in Sanskrit as Ghata, meaning pot, responds in a unique way to the stimuli from the surrounding environment. Do not be surprised when the response of another appears entirely different from yours. The pot has created the illusion of a wall, of mine and other. Once you become aware of that illusion, otherness melts and the universe becomes a unified verse again, with apparently diverse responses becoming part of the same symphony.

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 »)

Who might you be?” she demanded. “A wretched lord of cacophony and sheer decibels? Or a ruthless assassin of harmony?

Wisdom got sound. It is called silence

Words, no matter whether they are vocalized and made into sounds or remain unspoken as thoughts, can cast an almost hypnotic spell upon you. You easily lose yourself in them, become hypnotized into implicitly believing that when you have attached a word to something, you know what it is. The fact is: You don’t know what it is. You have only covered up the mystery with a label. Everything, a bird, a tree, even a simple stone, and certainly a human being, is ultimately unknowable. This is because it has unfathomable depth. All we can perceive, experience, think about, is the surface layer of reality, less than the tip of an iceberg.

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.

Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud, but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hours just wanting to make it through the day. There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got through and the sky was so blue I couldn’t look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories, but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desk tick tick tick me not making a sound and some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind, but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine. This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely ways but you can not let it. I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness, thinking it will help but it only feeds the fire and I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me—little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again. It will always be spring again. And there will always be a new day.

You are a co-creator with your Sound. The sound of your voice will transform your surroundings. It can’t be helped. Things you use to do, you won’t do no more. Places you use to go, you won’t go no more. You will require more of yourself and command the attention of resources.

3D is great, but I just think of it as another tool, like colour or music or sound. It has the potential to add another emotional layer to certain things if you use it right. But it's not the saviour [of the movies], the be all and end all, the reason to do something.

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

Abenthy gave me an appraising look. I'd been waiting for it. It was the look that said, "You don't sound as young as you look." I hoped he'd come to grips with it fairly soon. It gets tiresome being spoken to as if you are a child, even if you happen to be one.

A big marker in my life was realizing you could record sound: I liked to make little recordings and then go back and listen to them. It becomes something outside of you then and you can listen to it objectively.

A blown-out tube ripped some of the grind from the amplifier, throwing us into a momentary tizzy. The unusual sound led me to play unusually, and the recorded take turned out to be a keeper. Insriration can come from the most unlikely places ... keep your head on and your ears open.

Above all, I feel that the sounds of this world are so beautiful in themselves that if only we could listen to them properly, cinema would have no need for music at all.

About 10 minutes ago, we all woke up because of this strange roaring sound. We all raced toward the sound, which turned out to be the washing machine going back on. Who knew the rinse cycle could be so scary?

Abstinence. It didn't even sound comfortable.

52,000 here tonight, but it sounds like 50,000.

A child walked by, rolling a metal hoop that made a sound of autumn.

A band ought to have a sound all of its own. It ought to have a personality.

A bass should sound like a bass with the thump of the finger against the wood, like it began with stand up.

A computer is like a violin. You can imagine a novice trying first a phonograph and then a violin. The latter, he says, sounds terrible. That is the argument we have heard from our humanists and most of our computer scientists. Computer programs are good, they say, for particular purposes, but they aren’t flexible. Neither is a violin, or a typewriter, until you learn how to use it.

A couple of times he called the second he'd finished reading a novel and just had to tell me about it, and I know it sounds hokey and librarianish to say so, but I just swooned when he did that.

Acoustic phonetics, which is developing and increasing in richness very rapidly, already enables us to solve many of the mysteries of sound, mysteries which motor phonetics could not even begin to solve.

A day off after a show with no agenda in a foreign city is about the most fertile creative situation I can imagine. Just walking with nothing to do, killing time and hearing the sights and sounds of an unfamiliar place.

Advances don't fundamentally interest me. It sounds terribly naive, but money doesn't really mean anything to me. If a lot of money came my way, I'm certainly not going to say no. But it hasn't come my way as yet, and I'm not heartbroken.