Droning Noise Quotes & Sayings

It turns out that there are swaths of habitat in the north of Siberia and Yukon that actually could house a mammoth. Remember, this was a highly plastic animal that lived over tremendous climate variation. — Hendrik Poinar

When you put a tiny and despised minority up for a popular vote, the minority usually loses. — Andrew Sullivan

I used to say I would pay good money to forget most of my life. Now I want the memories back. — Michael Robotham

I attended a post-college program in L.A. for Music Business and Production. Took several courses involving Music Production, Arrangement, and Songwriting. — Adam Kluger

Most of the circuits in our brains run on automatic. The more you think a thought, the more energy goes into that circuit. Eventually it gets enough energy to run the thought automatically without us needing to put more energy into it. — Jill Bolte Taylor

If I was looking to play with fire, I wanted to dance in the center of the flames. — Leila DeSint

I do wear wigs ... I sometimes make the joke about me standing on a hilltop with my hair blowing in the wind - and me too proud to run after it. — Dolly Parton

I'm wearing pants, for f
's sake. Lay off. I mean, it's not like I'm a f
ing lead miner. There are harder jobs in the world. But when people feel the freedom to create Tumblr accounts about my c
, I feel like that wasn't part of the deal ... But whatever. I guess it's better than being called out for the opposite. — Jon Hamm

I strive to create new opportunities in terms of partnerships and new works being presented and things you haven't seen anywhere else. Also to help you see old things in ways you haven't seen them before. — Damian Woetzel

This was different. It had synths droning and sending saltwater waves under my feet. It had drumbeats bursting like fireworks, rumbling the furniture out of place, and then a crazy, irregular, disharmonious, spiral crescendo of pure electric noise, like a typhoon dragging our bodies into it. It featured brass orchestras and choirs of mermaids and a piano in Iceland, all of them right there, visible, touchable, in Axton House. It shook us, fucked us, suspended us far above the reach of Help bouncing on his hind legs. It spoke of magenta sunsets and plastic patio chairs growing moss under summer storms rolling on caterpillar tracks. It sprinkled a bokeh of car lights rushing through night highways and slapped our faces like the wind at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. It pictured Niamh playing guitar, washed up naked on a beach in Fiji. — Edgar Cantero