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Voiced Quotes (page 63)

I do understand that you can look into someone’s eyes,” I heard myself saying, “and suddenly know that life will be impossible without them. Know that their voice can make your heart miss a beat and that their company is all your happiness can ever desire and that their absence will leave your soul alone, bereft and lost. Bernard Cornwell
it's way too early for him to be talking anyhow but I see in his eyes something and I see in his eyes a voice and I see in his eyes a whole new set of words Sherman Alexie
How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark Autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose, O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose! Robert Browning
So it goes as I work my way down the page, and each cluster of marks is a word, and each word is a sound in my head, and each time I write another word, I hear the sound of my own voice, even though my lips are silent. Paul Auster
Clyde's mother was an ample, olive-dark woman with the worn and disappointed look of someone who had spent her life doing things for others: occasionally the mulling plaintiveness of her voice suggested that she regretted this. Truman Capote
Much of her life had been lived like a balancing act on a spearpoint fence, and on a particularly difficult night when she was twelve, she had decided that instinct was, in fact, the quiet voice of God. Prayers did receive replies, but you had to listen closely and believe in the answer. At twelve, she wrote in her diary: "God doesn't shout; He whispers, and in the whisper is the way. Dean Koontz
Little notes, scrawled on half-sheets of paper, and letters, when he was away, page after page, intimate, their news. Her voice, echoing through the house, and down the garden, careless and familiar like the writing in the book. And I had to call him Maxim. Daphne du Maurier
Suzanne Collins quote: "He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets? I say..."
He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets? I say in my best seductive voice. Suzanne Collins
The nights you fight best arewhen all the weapons are pointed at you, when all the voices hurl their insultswhile the dream is being strangled. The nights you fight best arewhen reason gets kicked in the gut, when the chariots of gloom encircle you. The nights you fight best arewhen the laughter of fools fills the air, when the kiss of death is mistaken for love. The nights you fight best arewhen the game is fixed, when the crowd screams for your blood. The nights you fight best areon a night... Charles Bukowski
I'm embarrassed to admit that I more or less curled up into a ball and let the misery have me." He grinned, sheepish. "It was much more pathetic than hearing voices. And, of course, you know I do that, too. Stephenie Meyer
Because I know that time is time and place is always and only place and what is actual is actual only for one time and only for one place, I rejoice that things are as they are and I renounce the blessed faces and renounce the voice because I cannot hope to turn again. T. S. Eliot
Limping, attendants rushed up to support him, Attendants made of gold who looked like real girls, With a mind within, and a voice, and strength, And knowledge of crafts from the immortal gods. These busily moved to support their lord... Homer
Go where the pleasure is in your writing. Go where the pain is. Write the book you would like to read. Write the book you have been trying to find but have not found. But write. And remember, there are no rules for our profession. Ignore rules. Ignore what I say here if it doesn't help you. Do it your own way. Every writer knows fear and discouragement. Just write. The world is crying for new writing. It is crying for fresh and original voices and new characters and new stories. If you won't... Anne Rice
Erotic play discloses a nameless world which is revealed by the nocturnal language of lovers. Such language is not written down. It is whispered into the ear at night in a hoarse voice. At dawn it is forgotten. Jean Genet
I want to see you. Know your voice. Recognize you when youfirst come 'round the corner. Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left. Know the lift of your heel, the glide of your foot. Become familiar with the way you purse your lipsthen let them part, just the slightest bit, when I lean in to your spaceand kiss you. I want to know the joy of how you whisper "more Rumi

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