Best 47 quotes in «echo quotes» category

Aires and Echo Emerson. Their mother must have hated them to give them names like that.

Anything said is gone as soon as it leaves my lips. Things written down at least have a chance to leave a soft echo of what had been.

Beautiful songs and voice echo in my heart.

Echo of the waves appears in the sky, their lights reflected in your eyes. I'm back in our world and happy again. The sound of your voice, compassionate embrace... The power in your touch, serenity of stride... The beating of your heart calms down my presence, gracing with eternal peace of mind... Bathing in the sunshine of your arms I'm deeply aware of the melodic stream that has no language...gliding beneath the quiet Heaven of your eyes...

Echoes are more noisy than the source.

Everybody feel pain except a woman who kicks a man in the balls.

Echo to echo I try to hear. From one echo to another I ransack my scream to find your name.

Every touch of you on my skin has burnt and etched your name on my soul. Whenever I close my eyes and try to feel myself, all I can hear is constant echoes of your name in my head, and all I can feel is the constant longing for the darkness.

At these words, the fathers of the fifty boys cried out aloud; the mothers repeated their exclamations an octave higher; whilst the rest, without knowing the cause, soon drowned the voices of both, with still louder lamentations of their own.

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.

I could hear the echo of chants bursting through the apartment walls depicting the loser that had come to be and reside within them.

I could still feel the echo of his hand on mine.

In Damascus: poems become diaphanous They’re neither sensual nor intellectual they are what echo says to echo . . .

George: Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf? Martha: I am, George. I am.

He squinted up at the straining muscular backs of the stone men supporing the dome. "You'll have to take me to some museums," he said. He was being the young man on the road, following the sun because gray weather made him suicidal, writing his poetry in his mind in diners and gas station men's rooms across the country. "But I did see a show of Hopper once. And I like his light. It was kind of lonely or something. Or, "The world's a mess, it's in my kiss,' like John and Exene say," he mumbled. We were in a leather store on Market Street being punks on acid with skunk-striped hair and steel-toed boots.

“She cries.” Ashley’s high-pitched voice cut through the silence as if she were dispensing juicy country-club gossip. “All the time. She really misses Aires.” Both my father and I turned our heads to look at the blond bimbo. I willed her to continue while my father, I’m sure, willed her to shut up. God listened to me for once. Ashley went on, “We all miss him. It’s so sad that the baby will never know him.” And once again, welcome to the Ashley show, sponsored by Ashley and my father’s money.

I never claimed to be right-minded. I know I'm screwed up. I know I'm so far beyond damaged I'm irreparable. But I also know that you won't find the same amount of satisfaction in punishing anyone but me.

Ieder orgasme is een kleine echo van de oerknal; geen wonder dat sex, erotiek en pornografie van alle tijden zijn. (Translated into English: 'Every orgasm is a little echo of the Big Bang; no wonder sex, erotica and pornography are of all times.' )

I was watching while you're dancing away, our love got fractured in the echo and sway. How come everybody wants to be your friend? You know that it still hurts me just to say it.

It felt like whatever the issue was, it was being repeated by spectral beings who were taking sides.

Luke used to give me butterflies. Noah spawned mutant pterodactyls.

Oh, Narcissus! My heart beats ink for you. A pulse in every line. It's your eyes my words want to be read by, your kind of mind they would be understood by, your heart they'd be felt by, and then you'd feel the same way that I do, if only these words could be read or heard by you.

love is but an echo in her head

Maybe we will meet again in the paths of dreaming, but my heart tells me this is farewell.

I wasn't used to be these weak before. But the day I saw you, it felt like somebody was punching me very hard on my chest. It was hard to breathe, it was hard to sleep. With your name echoing in my mind all the time. Like somebody was singing a song to me, that no one else heard. It was the first time I realised how beautiful it is to be weak.

She was sitting in a dark room, curled up and her head buried on her knees. His name echoing in her mind, like a thunder over a seashore. She was torn between the happiness brought by the waves, that touched her feet and fear of losing herself in the chaos. created by the sound that shattered her whole world into pieces.

Sometimes I hear the echo of your voice in an empty hall and it reminds me that you're gone.

Quotes are echos of voices transporting wisdom, humor, and love. Returning again to the human condition, fleeting once more as a dove.

Strong words resonate.

People nowadays talk about the world's problems like they're reading lines off a teleprompter. They recite what they're told and echo it without thinking. It has become easier to divide people than to unify them, and to blind them than to give them vision. We are no longer unified like a bowl of Cheerios. Instead, we have become as segregated as a box of Lucky Charms. Every day we see the same leprechauns on TV acting like they're the experts of everything.

Soon the maroon-throated howls would echo back from the other trees, father down the beach, until the whole jungle filled with roaring trees. As it was in the beginning, so it is every morning of the world.

The echo is a gift, passed on to us by our ancestors many ages ago, to remind us of ourselves. To confirm our existence. To remedy our loneliness. Though we must be still in order to hear it.

The desperate piercing scream of horror echoed far above the sharpened tops of the trees wrapped in thin obsidian-transparent mist, and I startled jerkily, tripping again, and almost collapsed onto the cold moist ground.

The echo of happiness bounces against a wall. (L'écho du bonheur - S'entend contre un mur.)

The echo of a red rose 
at the sunset, you decided 
to check out.

The only existence I know now is the one I was given. An echo of what used to be.

To be truly liberated is to escape the echo of old narratives.

This empty shell holds nothing but the echoes of what was.

To be happy to be sad and sad to be happy is to sing an echo in that beautiful language called Sorrow.

Truth, she believed, lies in what is said as much as in what isn't, in the same way that a melody not only is a sequence of audible notes but encompasses the spaces and pauses in between. When listening to music, you must learn to take in even the atmosphere of an echo.

...there was something in the texture of the weave that felt happy: the echo of a memory so far down in his soul it was all emotion, a burst of colour and warmth, adrift from time and place.

To Echo The Eternal Heartbeat Of God Is To Proclaim The Restoration Of His Glory

Tonight I miss you like the sky misses his moon; a delicate epiphany growing on grass. I serenade the breeze into dancing a cha cha cha; the mountains echo in the background. September sky never looked more charming; or the sublime petals of the rose looked so graceful.

What you listen in heart, are echoes of the past. What you write today, will be echoed in the future.

Yes!" Narissus unslung his bow and grabbed an arrow from his dusty quiver. "The first one who get that bronze, I will like you almost as much as I like me. I might even kiss you, right after I kiss my reflection!" "Oh my gods!" the nymphs squealed.

Your daughter's coming of age, you ought to let her see the world a little.

Your true friends echo your own philosophies back at you.