Hearing Quotes (displaying: 1 - 30 of 3394 quotes )
Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend. To make this creature fruitful! Into her womb convey sterility! Dry up in her the organs of increase; And from her derogate body never spring. A babe to honour her! If she must teem, Create her child of spleen; that it may live, And be a thwart disnatured torment to her! Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth; With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks; Turn all her mother's pains and benefits. To laughter and contempt; that she may feel. How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is. To have a thankless child! Away, away!
Song of myselfNow I will do nothing but listen, To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it. I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals, I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice, I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following, Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night, Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of work-people at their meals, The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick, The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing a death-sentence, The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves, the refrain of the anchor-lifters, The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streaking engines and hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and color'd lights, The steam-whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars, The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching two and two, (They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin.) I hear the violoncello, ('tis the young man's heart's complaint,) I hear the key'd cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears, It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast. I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music--this suits me.
Can you hear the dreams crackling like a campfire? Can you hear the dreams sweeping through the pine trees and tipis? Can you hear the dreams laughing in the sawdust? Can you hear the dreams shaking just a little bit as the day grows long? Can you hear the dreams putting on a good jacket that smells of fry bread and sweet smoke? Can you hear the dreams stay up late and talk so many stories?
Across the sky. I will come for you. If you ask me to. Demystify. Your uncommon dreams. Stranger things have come true. Fear no more the midnight. Fear no more the sea. Close your eyes, regret nothing. You're safe with me. Look into the shadows. Step into the mist. Search your land but doubt never. I still exist. Ask yourself: is this all there is. Take no answer but the one you find. I have put my faith in aberrations of your kind. But even if you're in my mind. Should we hear the silence. Should we hear the noise. I don't need this blind acceptance. I have made my choice. Light lives in the darkness. Beauty lives in pain. In destruction we may lose ourselves. But still I will remain. Across the sky. Across the sky. See beyond the moment. Think beyond the day. Hear the word. Hear the word
All I know about music is that not many people ever really hear it. And even then, on the rare occasions when something opens within, and the music enters, what we mainly hear, or hear corroborated, are personal, private, vanishing evocations. But the man who creates the music is hearing something else, is dealing with the roar rising from the void and imposing order on it as it hits the air. What is evoked in him, then, is of another order, more terrible because it has no words, and triumphant, too, for that same reason. And his triumph, when he triumphs, is ours.
With all the strength of my soul I testify that our Heavenly Father loves each one of us. He hears the prayers of humble hearts; He hears our cries for help… His Son, our Savior and Redeemer, speaks to each of us today: ‘Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him.’ [Rev. 3:20] Will we listen for that knock? Will we hear that voice? Will we open that door to the Lord, that we may receive the help He is so ready to provide?