Middle Voice Quotes & Sayings

Before Rohan could reply, a new voice entered the conversation. "What's this?"
It was Leo, who had just arisen from bed and pulled on his clothes. He came barefoot from the direction of his bedroom. His bleary gaze moved over the pair of them.
"Why are you on the floor with your buttons undone?"
Amelia considered the question. "I decided to have a spontaneous tryst in the middle of the hallway with a man I hardly know."
"Well, try to be quiet about it next time. A fellow needs his sleep."
Amelia stared at him quizzically. "For heaven's sake, Leo, aren't you worried that I may have been compromised?"
"Were you?"
"I ... " Her face turned hot as she glanced into Rohan's vivid topaz eyes. "I don't think so."
"If you're not sure about it," Leo said, "you probably weren't. — Lisa Kleypas

Union members not only earn higher median wages; they are more likely to have paid sick leave, short-term disability, and employer-provided child care. Giving people a voice at work - the ability to organize and negotiate for their fair share of the value they helped create - is absolutely essential to a growing, vibrant middle class. — Thomas Perez

A heckler once interrupted Nikita Khrushchev in the middle of a speech in which he was denouncing the crimes of Stalin. "You were a colleague of Stalin's," the heckler yelled, "why didn't you stop him then?" Khrushschev apparently could not see the heckler and barked out, "Who said that?" No hand went up. No one moved a muscle. After a few seconds of tense silence, Khrushchev finally said in a quiet voice, "Now you know why I didn't stop him." Instead of just arguing that anyone facing Stalin was afraid, knowing that the slightest sign of rebellion would mean certain death, he had made them feel what it was like to face Stalin - had made them feel the paranoia, the fear of speaking up, the terror of confronting the leader, in this case Khrushchev. The demonstration was visceral and no more argument was necessary. — Robert Greene

A raised eyebrow, an inflection of the voice, a caustic remark dropped in the middle of a broadcast can raise doubts in a million minds about the veracity of a public official or the wisdom of a governmental policy. — Spiro T. Agnew

With a suddenness that startled them all the wizard sprang to his feet. He was laughing! "I have it!" he cried. "Of course, of course! Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer."
Picking up his staff he stood before the rock and said in a clear voice: Mellon!
The star shone out briefly and faded again. Then silently a great doorway was outlined, though not a crack or joint had been visible before. Slowly it divided in the middle and swung outwards inch by inch, until both doors lay back against the wall. — J.R.R. Tolkien

Yes, it is hard out there. But hard is relative. I come from a middle-class family, my parents are academics. I was born after the Civil Rights movement, I was a toddler during the women's movement, I live in the United States of America, all of which means I am allowed to own my freedom, my rights, my voice and my uterus. — Shonda Rhimes

Where are you actually going?" My voice rings down the empty street. "I just told you. I'm going out stalking." "What, on foot?" I come closer by another six paces. "You were going to walk?" "I was going to run down the middle of the street like the Terminator. — Sally Thorne

I guess my voice kind of changed in middle school. It was what it is now. I remember there was this boy who used to walk behind me and sing that song that goes, "Walk like a man, talk like a man" and I was devastated. So I learned that I can pick up my voice if I want to. — Dianna Agron

I think 'Chef' is about somebody who's in the middle of his life, and he's kind of lost his passion and his voice, so he seeks out some refinement and redemption. — Jon Favreau

What's wrong?" she began quietly, her large, liquid eyes illuminated with hysteria. She laughed like a loon and said, "Where shall we begin? I'm tired. I'm sore." Her voice began lilting and rising, getting louder with every sentence. Grabbing at her chest, she shouted, "I've got a corset wrapped so tightly over my breasts that I can hardly breathe! I lost both my socks and my shoes! My hands are a pulp of lacerations!" She lifted them up before her, fingers spread, and laughed again. "I've a gash -- a throbbing, bleeding gash on the back of my scalp! And let's not forget to mention that I'm surrounded by men of the most vile, disreputable character imaginable, stuck on board a ship, in the middle of the bloody Atlantic! — Gabriela Lawson

...but freedom is scary. — Renata Suerth

In the world of the Middle East at the moment, the debates are shrill. But ... the wisest voice of all of them may well be the voice of this mute thing, the Cyrus cylinder. — Neil MacGregor

I'd Better Not--

A man leaned over to a man in a pub
And said in a voice
'I used to be thirty seven but now I'm fifty one'.
And that's how the years go.
In handfuls.
Like somebody is almost at the end of a bag of crisps
And they tip the bag up
And it's as though they're drinking crisps.
That's how the years go. — Ian McMillan

We must wait," she said. "They are involved in important buisness."
Her tone was serious, almost reverntial. The two of them stopped, some five meters from the group of me. They were all leaning forward, staring intently at an upright rock placed in the middle of the circle. Will thought they must be praying, although no words were being said.
Then, as one, they all slumped back with a roar of disappointment.
"It flew away!" said one figure, and Will recognized the voice. It was the man who had rescued him. "Almost to the top and it flew away!"
e lookd questioningly to Cieliema and she rolled her eyes at him. "Grown men gambling on two flies crawling up a stone."
"Gambling?" he said. "I thought they were praying.
She raised an eyebrow. "To them, it's much the same thing. — John Flanagan

Sunshine, I ... Starla's voice broke off as she entered the room and caught sight of him standing naked in the corner. She eyed him in an odd, detached way, as if he were an interesting piece of furniture.
Talon and modesty were strangers, but the way she stared at him made him damned uncomfortable. In spite of the sunlight, Talon grabbed the pink blanket off the bed and clutched it to his middle.
You know, Sunshine, you need to find a man like that to marry. Someone so well hung that even after three or four kids, he'd still be wall to wall.
Talon gaped.
Sunshine laughed. Starla, you're embarrassing him. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Don't judge me. You're not living my life and you know nothing about my battles. You have not the faintest idea of how I manage to smile in the middle of storms or how I transform my despair into delight. You have not the faintest idea of what I have gone through and why I am who I am today. This is my life and only I know the real story. The strains, the struggles, the sorrows are all mine. They're not for you to assess or evaluate; I give that authority to none, for My Guiding Light is Within. - Manprit Kaur — Manprit Kaur

I breath in and out through my mouth to feel the quiet. In. Out. Over and over. Until I fall asleep. — Jo Knowles

I met many Christians leaving the Middle East, hoping to come to Australia feeling they would leave behind a society where they were inferiors in their native lands and they are disturbed about the rise of more separate radical Islam in Australia, not necessarily the main stream but there is a voice. — Mark Durie

Auburn Mason Reed," I say out loud.

What are the chances?

I smile and run my thumb over the letters in her middle name. "We have the same middle name."

I look back up at Adam, and he's lowering his bed again with a faint smile on his face. "That could be fate, you know."

I shake my head, dismissing his comment. "I'm pretty sure she's your fate. Not mine."

His voice is strained, and it takes a tremendous amount of effort for him to roll onto his side. He closes his eyes and says, "Hopefully she has more than one fate, Owen. — Colleen Hoover

In the middle of the night, she'd woken up with a memory of her grandmother's voice ringing in her ears. "When it happens," the older woman had said, holding on to Jenna's hand with surprising strength for someone with one foot in the grave, "and it will, don't stay in the cities. She can find you in the city. Too many eyes and whispering tongues that no one can see. Run to the woods, far away from everything and everyone you ever knew. Run, girl, run as far and as fast as you can. — Deborah Blake

He wanted you to rob a bank to prove you were a hero?" Skepticism dripped from Victor's voice. "And then what?"
"What the fuck does it look like, ass hat?" Barry gestured down at his body. "He killed me! The bastard walks right up in the middle of a demonstration he told me to do, and he shoots me. — V.E Schwab

My father used to say that there are two kinds of people in the world," Kaladin whispered, voice raspy. "He said there are those who take lives. And there are those who save lives."
Syl frowned, cocking her head. This kind of conversation confused her; she wasn't good with abstractions.
"I used to think he was wrong. I thought there was a third group. People who killed in order to save." He shook his head. "I was a fool. There is a third group, a big one, but it isn't what I thought."
"What group?" she said, sitting down on his knee, brow scrunched up.
"The people who exist to be saved or to be killed. The group in the middle. The ones who can't do anything but die or be protected. The victims. That's all I am. — Brandon Sanderson

She jumped out from hiding. "You killed me, you son of a bitch!"
The Windigo stopped. As its bulbous red eyes fell on her, it occurred to her that, even though she was dead, there might be fates that could befall her spirit she should probably try to avoid. Swallowing, she stepped back.
But the Windigo made no move toward her. Its voice was a thing of ice cracking in the middle of a frozen lake. "I have eaten your flesh already, child. Your spirit is of no use to me. I need fresh meat and hot blood." Turning away, it continued through the forest.
"What? That's it? Take my body, then forget about me?" she yelled after its retreating back. "Obviously a guy," she muttered. — Douglas Smith

Amy Poehler was new to SNL and we were all crowded into the seventeenth-floor writers' room, waiting for the Wednesday night read-through to start. [ ... ] Amy was in the middle of some such nonsense with Seth Meyers across the table, and she did something vulgar as a joke. I can't remember what it was exactly, except it was dirty and loud and "unladylike",
Jimmy Fallon [ ... ] turned to her and in a faux-squeamish voice said, "Stop that! It's not cute! I don't like it."
Amy dropped what she was doing, went black in the eyes for a second, and wheeled around on him. "I don't fucking care if you like it." Jimmy was visibly startled. Amy went right back to enjoying her ridiculous bit.
With that exchange, a cosmic shift took place. Amy made it clear that she wasn't there to be cute. She wasn't there to play wives and girlfriends in the boys' scenes. She was there to do what she wanted to do and she did not fucking care if you like it. — Tina Fey

The office of Speaker is almost as ancient as Parliament itself. It emerged in the Middle Ages when the Commons - the ordinary people - of England needed a spokesman in their dealings with the King, someone who would voice their grievances and present their petitions. This was by no means a safe or easy thing to do at that time, and potential spokesman generally had to be pressured into accepting the responsibility. — John Allen Fraser

Love is not the middle ear from which the voice resounds, but rather the voice itself; in our bodies a body of emanations. — Candice Favilla

When confronted with suffering that won't go away or with even a minor problem, we instinctively focus on what is missing, ... not on the Master's hand. Often when you think everything has gone wrong, it's just that you're in the middle of a story. If you watch the stories God is weaving in your life, you ... will begin to see the patterns. You'll become a poet, sensitive to your Father's voice. — Paul E. Miller

The sounds of people entering the kitchen snap me out of my thoughts. Before I can react, creepy moaning noises and breathless giggles erupt from the other side of my counter."Oh, Grant," a familiar voice sighs.I pop up suddenly, unable to believe my ears. Guess what I see? Jane, locked in the embrace of a balding middle aged man whom I'm pretty sure is married."Jane!" I gasp.They both scream a little and break apart, wide-eyed.
"Violet!" Jane gasps, holding a hand against her heart."I thought you were a lesbian," I blurt out.
"It's not what it - what? Why would you think I'm a lesbian?""Oh ... " I shrug. "Never mind. I should go. — Nicole Christie

Secret Saturdays ought to be required reading at middle schools everywhere. Maldonado gives us both voice and heart. His young characters navigate a challenging world with endearing earnestness, lively style, and a heartening desire for true friendship and dignity. — E.R. Frank

But when you only speak using generalizations, you run the danger of denying the specific. In recent decades, millions of people have come to us from cultural groups within which women have absolutely no rights. They do not have a voice of their own and they are totally dependent on their fathers, brothers or husbands. That applies to North Africa and that applies to large parts of the Middle East. It isn't always linked to Islam. — Alice Schwarzer

You told me there wouldn't be any Rod Serling voice-overs, yet here I am in the middle of a Twilight Zone episode. Oh, and let me guess the title of it, Night of the Terminally Stupid! (Channon) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Okay, listen up, people," Kieran raised his voice so that it was all gravelly and impressive. I wasn't particularly impressed since we'd grown up together and I'd force-fed him mud pies when we were little, but it seemed to work on everyone else. Lia actually sighed.
Only a thirteen-year-old vampire hunter would get a crush in the middle of a vampire attack.
I was a little bit proud of her actually.
His grin widened and he nudged my shoulder companionably. "I like you, kid." (Quinn)
I tried not to groan out loud. I was as bad as Lia.
I had totally developed a crush during a vampire raid. — Alyxandra Harvey

I nodded in approval, turned around and opened the door, and stepped into the hall. I walked past the receptionist, smiling at her shocked face when she told me in a superficial voice to have a nice day, and I gave her a parting gift - my middle finger. — J.A. Saare

Who's Matthews?" Zack asked.
"The tall blond one you keep calling Junior," Anthony said. "Stop doing that, by the way. It annoys him. Anyway, he's young, strong, and he's got 20/20 vision. Happy?"
"No." Zack searched for a good reason why. "He's young. He's new. He doesn't know..."
"Great," Anthony said, a savage edge creeping into his voice. "You want somebody not too old, not too young, who knows. That leaves us with a middle-aged cop with experience. The only one of those is you. Are you volunteering? — Jennifer Crusie

I think having women behind the cameras is exciting - whether it's as a director or a writer or a producer - because it does feel like we're in the middle of this awakening of realizing that it's important for women to have a voice. — Mary Elizabeth Ellis

Crossroads about the same time tomorrow. Ashton spent a few moments chattering about her excuse for being away from Mont Royal; it also involved staying with a friend, a nonexistent one. Madeline heard Ashton's voice, but few of the words registered. The three women crowded into the chaise, Ashton in the middle. It was evident to Madeline that Orry's sister didn't like squeezing against a Negress, but she'd just have to put up with it. — John Jakes

One day I picked up the phone to hear a middle-aged female voice asking if there were "any green Salles" left; she wanted to match Salle's art to the color scheme of her living room furniture. It's all such a joke, — Kim Gordon

Dapper closed his eyes and started to say something quietly - chanting. "Gaelic," Lincoln whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. After a minute or two, the living-room wall started to move toward us, the mantelpiece splitting in the middle, opening up like two massive doors. "Open sesame," Zoe said, her voice filled with awe. Spence was grinning ear to ear. "I know, right! I'm waiting for the troll to come out and ask for a magic password." I smiled at him. Griffin didn't. He smacked Spence over the head instead. Salvatore — Jessica Shirvington

He started to chuckle with delight even before his voice trailed off. The laughter bubbled up and spilled out of his mouth, and even in the middle of all the light he thought that laughter was wonderful too. What an incredible body I have that can laugh like this! So he threw his arms in the air, eyes still closed and full of light, and started to jump up and down, giggling. What a wonderful, wonderful body he had! And — Ted Dekker

I listened to the men's voices outside, muted by my car walls.
" ... went at it with a flamethrower in the online video. Didn't even pucker the paint."
"Of course not. You could roll a tank over this baby. Not much of a market for one over here. Designed for Middle East Diplomats, arm dealers, and drug lords mostly."
"Think she's something?" the short one asked in a softer voice. I ducked my head, cheeks flaming.
"Huh," the tall one said. "Maybe. Can't imagine what you'd need missile-proof glass and four thousand pounds of body armor for around here. Must be headed somewhere more hazardous."
Body armor. Four thousand pounds of body armor. And missle-proof glass? Nice. What had happened to good old-fashioned bulletproof? — Stephenie Meyer

You're certainly chipper this morning."
"Damn straight. Chipper's my middle name. I'm going out to spread joy and laughter to all of mankind."
"What a nice change of pace." There was amusement riding along with the Irish in his voice. "Perhaps you'll start now by going down with me to see Summerset off."
She grimaced. "That might spoil my appetite." Testing, she polished off the pancakes. "No, no, it doesn't. I can do that. I can go down and wave bye-bye."
Brow lifted, he gave her hair a quick tug. "Nicely."
"I won't do the happy dance until he's out of sight. Three weeks. — J.D. Robb

Figuring I might entertain myself with heckling, I walked to the bar. I never made it through the door. Instead, I leaned against the doorway, crossed my arms, and enjoyed the spectacle of Raven, Bailey, and Sawyer singing horribly along with Steve Perry.
The three blondes sang their talentless hearts out with Sawyer on a stool in the middle. Bailey wasn't singing as much as yelling to the music. Sawyer was talking the song. Raven though was really trying to sound good. Unfortunately, her sexy voice didn't translate well into song.
The few people in the bar clapped when the song ended. Mainly because Bailey and Raven were hot.
Sawyer ran to the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender nodded and gave her a big glass of root beer. She winked at him and told Bailey to pay the man. The kid was going to rule the world one day. — Bijou Hunter

You haven't," he repeated. "You're stewin' on it."
This was true too. If I had a dollar for every time his words in his voice popped into my head and made me flinch the last two days, I could move to the Riviera. They even woke me up in the middle of the night. Then again, I had insomnia and always did, even as a kid. I regularly thought of stuff in my life, stuff that embarrassed me or hurt me or worried me or freaked me out and I couldn't get to sleep. Then, when I did, I'd wake up three, four times a night sometimes tossing and turning for hours before finding sleep again. This beautiful man saying those horrible words when talking about me was not only fresh, it was the worst of all my nightly demons by far and it would be in a way I knew would last the rest of my life. — Kristen Ashley

Very romantic," said Lillian, her voice now like the sound of snapping dry bones in her bare hands. "A middle-aged Romeo, and a Juliet who wants a divorce. — Sarah Rees Brennan

I'm going to go hunt some zombie, he said. It would have sounded pretty cool if his voice hadn't cracked in the middle of the sentence. — Carrie Harris

The beliefs and behaviour of the Restoration reflect the theories of society put forward by Thomas Hobbes in The Leviathan, which was written in exile in Paris and published in 1651. Like many texts of the time, The Leviathan is an allegory. It recalls mediaeval rather than Renaissance thinking. The leviathan is the Commonwealth, society as a total organism, in which the individual is the absolute subject of state control, represented by the monarch. Man - motivated by self-interest - is acquisitive and lacks codes of behaviour. Hence the necessity for a strong controlling state, 'an artificial man', to keep discord at bay. Self-interest and stability become the keynotes of British society after 1660, the voice of the new middle-class bourgeoisie making itself heard more and more in the expression of values, ideals, and ethics. — Ronald Carter

God has not given us reason and the counsels and help of reason that we should despise them. This is what those men do who are either presumptuous or in a state of despair. When they say: "Whatever I do, I shall not hinder what must necessarily come to pass by a kind of fate," this is the voice of those in despair. But the presumptuous are accustomed to make this boast: "If I have to live, I shall live even if I do not eat. God has promised life, therefore it does not matter whether I eat or do not eat." But since we have God's promises, we must take careful precautions not to tempt God by presumption and not to sin by despair. When you have a ladder, there is no reason for throwing yourself out of a window, nor should you go through the middle of the Elbe when you have a bridge. But each one should do what reason instructs him to do and commend the rest to God. He will grant fitting results. Here — Martin Luther

I was at a restaurant and I heard this little voice at a nearby table pipe up and say, 'I believe I will have the chowder.' I got up and walked out into the middle of the restaurant. There was Sterling Holloway just sitting there being Sterling Holloway. Never in a million years would I have imagined that I'd have the honor of filling his shoes. I just regret not going up to him and saying hello. — Jim Cummings

A cabaret song has got to be written - for the middle voice, ideally - because you've got to hear the wit of the words. And a cabaret song gives the singer room to act, more even than an opera singer. — James Fenton

Rather than empowering all, consumer and shareholder activism gives greatest voice to those with the most money in their pockets, those who can switch from seller to seller with relative ease. Consumer and shareholder activism is a form of protest that favours the middle classes, an outpouring of the dissatisfaction of the bourgeoisie. — Noreena Hertz

In the Ottoman times, there were itinerant storytellers called "meddah. " They would go to coffee houses, where they would tell a story in front of an audience, often improvising. With each new person in the story, the meddah would change his voice, impersonating that character. Everybody could go and listen, you know ordinary people, even the sultan, Muslims and non-Muslims. Stories cut across all boundaries. Like "The Tales of Nasreddin Hodja," which were very popular throughout the Middle East, North Africa, the Balkans and Asia. Today, stories continue to transcend borders — Elif Shafak

You can choose to listen to one end of the spectrum or the other on Twitter, just like you can on television. But hopefully what we've done is given a voice to that broad middle ground. — Dick Costolo

Yeah, I record on voice memos. I got like 1,000-something memos. If I'm in the middle of something and I can't get it done, I'll jot it down, but I never write a rap out, ever. — Big Sean

I came to your suite in the middle of the night to bring you a glass of water when you were too lazy to walk to the bathroom. I cleaned your girlfriend's vomit off the sofa cushions." Solara's voice raised a pitch. "For God's sake, I even fetched her panties when you two left them in the elevator! I wanted to amputate my own hand after that! — Melissa Landers

I do. I understand if I let you go, you'll put yourself right in the middle of the fight. And I know it could get you killed."
"So what?" I struggled to stay calm. "Look, I'm not suicidal, but it's my family, Ayden. If I die keeping them safe, I'm okay with that. You know how I feel."
He threw up an arm and his voice rose. "And what about how I feel? — A&E Kirk

On the news two dozen events of fantastically different importance are announced in exactly the same tone of voice. The voice doesn't discriminate between a divorce, a horse race, a war in the Middle East. — Doris Lessing

I SAY "SORRY" A LOT. When I am running late. When I am navigating the streets of New York. When I interrupt someone. I say, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," in one long stream. The sentence becomes "Sorrysorrysorry" and it's said really fast, as if even the act of apologizing is something to apologize for. But this doesn't mean I am a pushover. It doesn't mean I am afraid of conflict or don't know how to stand up for myself. I am getting to a place right in the middle where I feel good about exactly how much I apologize. It takes years as a woman to unlearn what you have been taught to be sorry for. It takes years to find your voice and seize your real estate. I am still learning the right balance. — Amy Poehler

It was a lone voice in the middle of the ocean, but it was heard at great depth and great distance. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

You are funny like a kid and awesome like a princess
Unseen like an angel, like the morning sunshine ...
Kindness like a river and highness like a mountain,
In the middle of the Rheine, the cute face and sweet lips ...
(La la la la, La la , mmmm , mm ... )
Keep the lovely smile, in your juicy icy eyes
Open the heaven for my eyes, forever angel voice
Never angry never harsh, never mad never marsh
Dear or darling, either diamond or dime,
Overall the dream of the world — M.F. Moonzajer

I hope he doesn't expect us to make a wish on the thing," I continued, as Ash scanned the surroundings, wary and alert as always. "I've learned my lesson, thanks. I'd rather go to tea with Mab than make a wish on something called the Wishing Tree in the middle of the Nevernever."
"You have no idea how relieved I am to finally hear you say that." Ash was still gazing around the clearing, looking solemn apart from the grin in his voice. — Julie Kagawa

Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mark said. "It couldn't have been that long. It happened to us just a few days ago." "I don't like it ... when people doubt my words," Jed said, his tone changing drastically in the middle of his sentence. It suddenly turned threatening. "How can you sit there and accuse me of lying? Why would I lie about such a thing? I've tried to make peace with you, give you a second chance in this life, and this is how you repay me?" His voice had risen in volume with every passing word until he was shouting, his body trembling. "It ... it makes my head hurt." Mark could tell Alec was about to explode, so he quickly reached over and squeezed his arm. "Don't," he whispered. "Just don't." Then he returned his attention to Jed. "No, listen, please. It's not like that. We just want to understand. Our village had the ... — James Dashner

I love Graham Larkin," she said quietly, her voice full of emotion, and there was a flicker of surprise on his face, and then his expression softened. "You're supposed to shout it," he said, smiling as she tugged on the brim of the cap, forcing him to lower his face, bringing him closer and closer until their lips met. And even though they were in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, lost in a sea of concrete and wood and metal, she could almost swear he tasted like the ocean. — Jennifer E. Smith

Would you like to know how Charlotte got those nine stitches?" I asked suddenly, in a tone of voice that sounded perfectly normal to me. "We were up at the Lake. Seymour had written to Charlotte, inviting her to come up and visit us, and her mother finally let her. What happened was, she sat down in the middle of our driveway one morning to pet Boo Boo's cat, and Seymour threw a stone at her. He was twelve. That's all there was to it.

He threw it at her because she looked so beautiful sitting there in the middle of the driveway with Boo Boo's cat. Everybody knew that for God's sake-me, Charlotte, Boo Boo, Waker, Walt, the whole family." I stared at the pewter ashtray on the coffee table. "Charlotte never said a word to him about it. Not a word." I looked up at my guest, rather expecting him to dispute me, to call me a liar. I am a liar, of course. Charlotte never did understand why Seymour threw that stone at her. My guest didn't dispute me though. — J.D. Salinger

Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam,' said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam's gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand. Sam felt that he could sit like that in endless happiness ... — J.R.R. Tolkien

There, before me, was a pond surrounded by large patches of tall grass and spindly trees that swayed gently with the cool breeze. In the middle of the water was a man hunched over, bound to two tree stumps. He was moaning and in pain. I could feel it from where I stood. I moved towards him but stopped when a deep voice spoke in the darkness.
"Do not touch him. — Brynn Myers

She had given him her hand in an indifferent way that seemed habitual to her and spoke in a correspondingly indifferent manner, though in a very pleasant voice. She was as graceful as she was beautiful, perfectly self-possessed, and had the air, I thought, of being able to attract and interest any one if she had thought it worth her while. The keeper had brought her a chair on which she sat in the middle of the porch between us. — Charles Dickens

Elizabeth Sarah Kowalski!"
"Whoa," Evan said in a low voice. "How bad does a word have to be to get you middle-named during dirty Scrabble? — Shannon Stacey

He made me pick a safe word." Nik peeked between his fingers. Sam's mouth was hanging open.
"Oh." Sam's voice was a whisper. More of the throat clearing. "What did you pick?"
Not the question he'd been expecting. Nik looked up at Sam from under his hand.
"Lemonade."
"Lemonade?" Nik nodded. "Do you like lemonade?"
"Does it matter? Yes, I like lemonade."
"Shouldn't you have picked something you didn't like, to make sure there were no, um, inadvertent exclamations at an important moment?"
He dropped his hand and stared at Sam. "Who screams out 'lemonade' in the middle of sex?"
Sam blushed. Nik was momentarily grateful for his dark skin. "You'd be surprised," Sam mumbled. — Anne Tenino

I said, in my new loud middle-aged-Jewish-woman voice. — Jesse Andrews

Sleepy head," he whispers, slipping an arm around my waist, "you snore."
"Do not," I say in voice croaky from sleep.
He nibbles my earlobe. "It's cute."
"Middle-aged, overweight men snore. That's not cute."
He strokes my hip. "Everything you do's cute."
I love it when he talks like this. It means he has a softer, sweeter side. I hate it for the exact same reason. — Ashley Lynn Willis

She frowned, thinking of going down there and explaining herself all over again, reliving the horror of finding Mimi's body and trying not to think of how she'd looked when they'd dragged her up and out of the ravine. No sooner had she thought it than she heard Mimi's voice, chastising her over a year ago.

"You hide from life, Catherine. Even when you're in the middle of it, standing toe to toe with all the bad guys you bring in, you manage to keep an emotional distance. I understand why you do it, but ultimately, you're the one who will suffer. You're the one who's going to grow old alone."

Cat blinked back tears, remembering what she'd told her.

I won't be alone, Mimi. I'll always have you.

Obviously she had been wrong. — Sharon Sala

Sunk in the mud, it took all my strength to flip it over. I lifted out the oar and inspected the bottom for holes and rotted wood. Seeing none, I gathered up my skirt, climbed in, and paddled to the middle of the pond, an untouchable place, far from everything. I tried to think what I would say to him, worried my voice would slink off again and leave me. I remained there a long while, lapping on the surface. Vapor curled on the water, dragonflies pricked the air, and I thought it all beautiful. — Sue Monk Kidd

Trent Vincent Andrews!" came a voice from inside the condo. "What was that?" Harper jumped. Trent grimaced. The morning was about to get a lot more entertaining. "Are you home, sweetheart?" Harper's eyes went wide. "Vincent?" Trent jumped off the bed and threw the cover over Harper. "My mom shows up, you're naked, I have a raging hard-on, and yet you focus on my middle name? — Scarlett Cole

Oh, isn't that sweet," came Jackal's loud, mocking voice ... "Let's make goo-goo eyes at each other in the middle of a stinking corpse field, how very romantic. — Julie Kagawa

There were once two sisters who were not afriad of the dark because the dark was full of the other's voice across the room, because even when the night was thick and starless they walked home together from the river seeing who could last the longest without turning on her flashlight, not afraid because sometimes in the pitch of night they'd lie on their backs in the middle of the path and look up until the stars came back and when they did, they'd reach their arms up to touch them and did. — Jandy Nelson

Sometimes the heart speaks, and the brain does not understand the language. — T.A. Cline

Ralston didn't care. He turned on his brother as the surgeon knelt next to him and inspected the wound. "She could have been killed!"
And what about you?" This time, it was Callie who spoke, her own pent-up energy releasing in anger, and the men turned as one to look at her, surprised that she and found her voice. "What about you and your idiotic pland to somehow restore my honor by playing guns out in the middle of nowhere with OXFORD?" She said the baron's name in disdain. "Like children? Of all the ridiculous, unnecessary, thoughtless, MALE things to do ... who even FIGHTS duels anymore?! — Sarah MacLean

A strong hand suddenly grasped my arm above the elbow. My eyes flew open in surprise. It was that hateful, arrogant man from earlier, standing a few steps below me. He looked at me with a strange expression on his face. It almost looked like ... concern. What did he want? I tried to ask him, but the walls were falling in on me again. I closed my eyes tightly. "I think you're about to faint," a low voice said. Whose voice was it? It was too nice to belong to that man. I shook my head and said weakly, "I don't faint." And then darkness rushed up while I swooped down. We met in the middle and it swallowed me whole. — Julianne Donaldson

Great-Uncle Merry stopped reading; but the children sat as still and speechless as if his voice still rang on. The story seemed to fit so perfectly into the green land rolling below them that it was as if they sat in the middle of the past. — Susan Cooper

The real middle class India that has always been looking for a voice that is its very own. I write about it because I belong to it. — Chetan Bhagat

The only slight disconcertance being that in the middle of looking at a paintings [in the Museum of Modern Art] she always found herself desperately needing to take a pee. And grandmother's voice in her ear.
'My dear, if you really have to, only clean, very clean rest rooms will do. — J.P. Donleavy

She is here amongst us, but she is not alone," one of the pixie dust angels told the queen of the woods.
"And?" the queen demanded.
"She is with some boy. Both look strange, if you ask me."
"Strange, how?" the queen asked.
"Strange. You know they don't look as we do."
"How do they look?" The queen turned and looked at the pixie angel with her purple eye that sat in the middle of her forehead.
"I don't know. They have things like the little people in Vanduesa."
"What things might you be referring to?" the queen's voice rose impatiently.
"You know those things that the little people get around with."
The queen laughed, revealing yellowing teeth. "Oh, the things the little people in Vanduesa refer to as legs."
"That's it." The pixie angel did an excited flip, and then nodded her head. — Lynette Mather

[They're in the middle of a gun fight with Carnegie's men]
Solara: You know that voice you heard, did it say anything about this.
Eli: We'll get out both of us.
George: What about us?
Eli: Didn't say anything about you. — Book Of Eli Movie

'You ... you're
'
'A virgin?' Jonah's voice cracked in the middle of that hated word.
'Holy fucking merciful Christ giving Peter a blow job.'
'Jesus,' Jonah breathed.
'Came first?' Amelia said, popping out of the ladies' room with impeccable timing. 'God, Ethan, that was the best blasphemy ever!' — Amy Lane

I've always wanted to be a voice actor. Well I think at first I wanted to be a singer. Then in middle school I auditioned for a musical and I only really cared because I wanted to sing in it. I had to act as well as part of the audition and that was the first time I ever really acted, and I was like 'Oh hey, this is fun, I like doing this.' — Ashly Burch

Was there a voice that whispered in his ear that he had just passed the most solemn moment of his destiny, that there was no longer a middle course for him; that from now on, he would either be the best of men or he would be the worst of men; that he now had to rise higher, so to speak, than the bishop or fall even lower than the galley slave; that if he wanted to be good, he had to be an angel; that if he wanted to stay bad, he had to be a monster from hell? — Victor Hugo

Drea, why don't you turn a circle and give us a good look?" the talker said, his chest all puffed out, as if he'd had something to do with making me perform.
"Fuck you," I said, nice and clear, in spite of my fuller voice, so everyone could hear.
A couple of teens near the back of the crowd laughed, but the mothers scowled and covered their children's ears.
"Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen," the talker called with an amiable chuckle. "Most of our exhibits were born and raised in the carnival, and they hear a lot of rough language."
"Most of our handlers are full of shit," I added, drawing more laughter from the back of the crowd. "I learned to cuss the same place all of your kids did. In middle school. — Rachel Vincent

Darona's face bore the pinched, taut look and shadowed eyes of someone constantly in pain, but the lack of lines suggested she was younger than Jesral had first thought; middle-aged, fifty at the very most.
'You make an uncommonly fine looking noblewoman, for a Mhrydaineg commoner.'
'Thank you.' Jesral was careful to keep all tone out of her voice. Darona gave her a shrewd stare, then a slight smile.
'Self-control. Good. You must ignore me when I offend you unintentionally. They say that pain can make one waspish, but my brothers and son tell me there's been no change in my manner. I was acid-tongued long before this set in,' she held up a knotted hand, 'and taking devil's claw root has no effect on that. Rest assured, young woman, when I intend offence people are in no doubt about it. — Helen Bell

Hayley is such a snotty-pants. She's been that way since she started wearing pink lip gloss. Someone should really check the ingredients for that lip gloss because it's having some serious side effects. — Angela Cervantes

Lucas crept around the building to the back parking lot. And there it was, just like he had seen from the roof - a baby lying in a shopping cart. Lucas's mind went negative. What if the kid was dead? He tried to think if he had ever seen a dead person before. He'd never been to a funeral, and he knew he had never seen a dead baby. And he definitely didn't want to.
His heart pounded in his chest.
Lucas walked, almost tiptoed, toward the shopping cart. The last of the parking lot lights flickered out, leav-ing only the early morning sun. He moved across the blacktop, making sure not to step on a white line. At this moment he needed all the luck he could muster. As he got closer to the cart, he held his breath and swallowed. Then he grabbed the shopping cart handle and looked over into the basket.
He gasped. — Paul Aertker

I had a hole in my voice. It's an area in the voice where it's air. It's just - there's no - it's just very airy. And my classical teachers were just so frustrated with me because I would have these deep, low notes that were really strong, and the higher register was strong, but right in that middle area, it was really hard. It was like a passage. And many singers go through this and work it out. But I realized in jazz, I could just take advantage of that and take advantage of having a voice that was very different in different areas. — Cecile McLorin Salvant

I think one of the things that I carry, and just my goals in life, is just encourage people and make them feel joy and celebrated and they leave feeling like maybe there was stuff talked about that was difficult, but then there was a voice of redemption and grace in the middle of that. — Mat Kearney

You're supposed to be a spirit of intellect. I don't understand why you're obsessed with sex."
Bob's voice got defensive. "It's an academic interest, Harry."
"Oh yeah? Well maybe I don't think it's fair to let your academia go peeping in other people's houses."
"Wait a minute. My academia doesn't just peep -"
I held up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to hear it."
He grunted. "You're trivializing what getting out for a bit means to me, Harry. You're insulting my masculinity."
"Bob," I said, "you're a skull . You don't have any masculinity to insult."
"Oh yeah?" Bob challenged me. "Pot kettle black, Harry! Have you gotten a date yet? Huh? Most men have something better to do in the middle of the night than play with their chemistry sets. — Jim Butcher

Wow,Cal," I said, feeling a little bit like myself for the first time since I'd walked into this crazy house. "You will be able to have some awesome slumber parties in here.All of the other girls are gonna be so jealous."
Cal shot me a half smile, and I felt some of the weird-ness between us dissipate. "It's not so bad," he said. Then he flopped down on the bed, only to sink out of sight in the middle of it. As Cal drowned in a sea of fluffy coverlets and throw pillows, I couldn't help but crack up.
Lara looked offended. "That bed originally belonged to the third Duke of Cornwall."
"It's great," Cal said, his voice muffled. He gave her the thumbs-up, which only made me and Jenna laugh harder. — Rachel Hawkins

[T]he people of Iraq have spoken to the world, and the world is hearing the voice of freedom from the center of the Middle East. — George W. Bush

We're a people at war,' she began, voice loud and clear. 'We're constantly attacked - but not just by Strigoi. By one another. We're divided. We fight with one another. Family against family. Royal against non-royal. Moroi against dhampir. Of course the Strigoi are picking us off. They're at least united behind a goal: killing.'
[ ... ]
'We are one people,' she continued. 'Moroi and dhampir alike.' Yeah, that got some gasps too. 'And while it's impossible for every single person to get their way, no one will get anything done if we don't come together and find ways to meet in the middle - even if it means making hard choices.'
[ ... ]
We've kept magic alongside technology. We conduct these sessions with scrolls and - with these.' She smiled and tapped her microphone. 'That's how we have survived. We hold onto our That's how we have survived. That's how we will survive. — Richelle Mead

The systematic murder of Christians in the Middle East is a horrible atrocity, and all of us should be united against it. Likewise, we should speak with one voice against the persecution of Jews, usually being carried out by the very same jihadist radicals. — Ted Cruz

Katherine is the master of anger; she dominates anger. She takes anger in her hands and twists its neck, ripping its head off. She throws anger against the wall and stomps it to death. Her voice rises, it changes, it conjures up ghosts and cusses in a spitting Irish brogue. Then, when she's tapped out empty, she picked anger up between her a thumb and a forefinger and carries it outside and drops it in the trash. On her way back, she scoops up forgiveness like a bouquet, sniffs it deep and arranges it in a vase. She sets forgiveness down, shining in the middle of everything. — Colleen Clayton

Colleges being nothing but grooming schools for the middle-class non-identity which usually finds its perfect expression on the outskirts of the campus in rows of well-to-do houses with lawns and television sets in each living room with everybody looking at the same thing and thinking the same thing at the same time while the Japhies of the world go prowling in the wilderness to hear the voice crying in the wilderness, to find the ecstacy of the stars, to find the dark mysterious secret of the origin of faceless wonderless crapulous civilization. — Jack Kerouac

Oh, and Cammie," At the sounds of his voice, I spun around, expecting to hear him crack a joke or call me Gallagher Girl. The last thing I expected was to feel his arms sliding arounds me, to sense the whole world turning upside down as Zach dipped me in the middle of the foyer and pressed his lips to mine. Then he smiled that smile I'd come to know. "I always finish what I start. — Ally Carter