Raspy Voice Quotes & Sayings

The MRI has a repertoire of noises that resemble, in no particular order: a game-show buzzer for a wrong answer, urgent knocking, a modem from 1992, a grizzly-bear growl, and a man with a raspy voice shouting what sounds like "mother cooler! — A. J. Jacobs

Don't fuckin' do shit like that again, baby," he interuppted in a raspy, hurt voice. There was no anger in is voice, just a desolate crushed roughness. "Cause I ain't wanting to be without you. You hearing me? You're my fuckin' woman. We ride this road together, no matter what gets in our way. — Tillie Cole

Hold onto me baby. I'm going to take care of you. The raspy need in his voice only made me more desperate. — Abbi Glines

He looked at me in a way that felt like being touched, like a blind man seeing with his fingers, mapping my bones and skin in his mind. I felt weirdly exposed. Seen.
"It's not what you think," he said.
"What do I think?"
"I'm not that good. I can't read minds."
Then read my body, I thought, but he only smiled.
"Tell me something." He leaned closer, his voice raspy at the edges, charred. "If you hate human connection so much, why come with us?"
Because I don't hate it. I hate how much I need it.
Because you're the ones I was waiting for. — Leah Raeder

Not your Jane," I snapped, but it was spoiled by my raspy, gasping voice. "Your Enforcer. Not your Jane."
Leo chuckled, a vamp's hunting purr that made Beast sit up and purr back. I kept the sound inside my head, but Beast liked Leo a little too much for my tastes. "You make the chase so delightful," he said.
"Stuff it."
Leo burst out laughing, my purr buried beneath his pure amusement. — Faith Hunter

It hurts to cry," she said, her voice raspy.
"It hurts worse not to."
"Did you cry?"
"For four days straight."
"Is that how long it took you to bury them?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said in a voice that sounded like stone grating against stone. — Lorraine Heath

Stay where you are." It's a raspy male voice. A whiskey voice or just someone who took a hit to the throat hard enough that it never healed right. There are six other guys behind him. All are armed with homemade blades, morning stars, and slings. "Who — Richard Kadrey

Tommy . . ." And then Tom murmured, "Lije," in his ear, his voice raspy and desperate, and Prophet shuddered, suddenly as desperate as Tom sounded. Of course, Tom noticed. And that's when he began fucking Prophet in earnest, saying his name like a cross between a chant and a prayer, and Prophet was damned sure no one had made it sound better. No one had ever shortened it like that, but back in New Orleans, Tom had taken it and made it his own, using it every time they fucked. Like he was proving he knew Prophet, reminding Prophet that he'd let Tom in and there was no backing out now. Prophet — S.E. Jakes

Resting beside her, he seemed to Ildiko a living statue, carved from dark granite into a form of supple elegance and power. He was beautiful, and the tremor change in her perception of him robbed her lungs of air.
He opened both eyes suddenly, making her jump. Two shimmering gold coins stared at her unblinking. "Good evening, wife," he said in a voice raspy with the remnants of sleep. A closed-lip smile curved his mouth upward and deepened the tiny lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes. "You're staring. Do I have a fly on my nose?"
Fighting down a blush at being caught gawking at her own husband, Ildiko lightly tapped the tip of his nose with one finger. "I was trying to find a way to kill it without punching you in the face. Lucky for you, it flew away. — Grace Draven

What in the Haven's name just happened?"
Dazed and still trembling from the overload to her senses, Ellysetta floated in Rain's arms, her limp body draped across his, incapable of autonomous movement. She could barely think straight, let alone summon the strength to actually move.
Rain's chest rippled as he dragged in a shuddering breath. "I don't know." His voice came out hoarse, raspy. He swallowed, then tilted his chin against his chest to glance at her. A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. "But I hope it happens again. — C.L. Wilson

It was a voice she had heard before, deep and raspy. It made her bones crack and splinter, made her feel the astonishing cold of a winter long since passed. — Sarah J. Maas

Hey," I say as I rest the phone on my shoulder.
"Are you really dripping wet and wearing a tiny white towel?" he asks in a raspy low voice.
"Yes, I just got out of the shower."
"Good," he exhales into the line. "At least I don't have this raging hard-on for no reason. — Claire Contreras

And she just takes it, drinking me down, sucking my cock with sharp tugs that have me babbling demands. "God, honey, promise you'll marry me one day. I have to have this for the rest of our lives. Forever. Always. Fuck."
She releases me with a long pull, her finger sliding away. My skin prickles. I feel vaguely empty, my body sore in places I don't want to think about. And as she slowly kisses her way up my stomach, I'm still babbling. "Give it to me on Christmas. Birthdays." Her tongue flicks in my belly button. I grunt, my hips twitching. "My days off. Major holidays. Midnight surprises ... " Mac licks my nipple, and I shiver, my voice going raspy. "Twice on Tuesdays. — Kristen Callihan

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

He reached down and fingered his hoodie on the bed. 'You sleeping with this?' His voice grew raspy. I shrugged. 'Maybe.' He growled, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face in my shoulder. 'You really test my limits,' he said. Then I heard him mumble, 'Already.' 'Your limits?' I asked, pulling back to look at him. 'If you were any other girl, I would already have you naked and beneath me.' His words should have shocked me. Maybe made me angry. They didn't. They turned me on. I shivered with newfound desire. He groaned and sat me aside and stood from the bed. 'You're killing me, Smalls.' 'Smalls?' I giggled. He grinned. 'That's what we call the small players on the team.' 'I'm not on your team.' I pointed out. 'No. But you are mine.'"
"- Romeo & Rimmel — Cambria Hebert

Glad you came," Gally said in his raspy voice. "Because the end of the world is upon us. — James Dashner

After several minutes, Ed said, his voice raspy and spent, "You okay, Laur?"
Laurie, his bones melted, his muscles slack, his heart pounding like a happy caged beast against the wall of his chest, his backside throbbing and still half-full of Ed, let out his breath. With great effort, he nodded. — Heidi Cullinan

He ran a finger along her moist slit. "When I come home to you after a week of dealing with fucking Legion," he said, his voice raspy and low, slowing his finger to circle her clit. "You should not be wearing any clothes. At all. — Zoey Ellis

We've met before you know?"
I look at him a little perplexed and a little hurt that he hasn't mentioned it. I nod my head indicating that, of course, I remember. Then with a low raspy voice I answer, "You remember meeting me and haven't said anything up until now. Why?"
With an equally low voice and the harshness seemingly gone in his tone, he says, "Why haven't you, Dahlia?" He's looking at me with his powerful green eyes and I know there's no seeing the future in them right now. — Kim Karr

I loved her voice. Sort of raspy and breathy, but in a sexy way, not in an out-of-shape-smoker way. -Jessie, Love on the Red Rocks — Lisa Moreau

(T)here was something in the timbre and inflection of his words that seemed to rummage through a clutter of ancestral fragments to remind me of the person I may have been born to be but had not become. If I didn't take his daily rants against America seriously, it was because it was never really America he was inveighing against, nor was his the voice of a bewildered Middle East trying to fend off a decaying and implacable West. What I heard instead was the raspy, wheezing, threatened voice of an older order of mankind, older ways of being human, raging, raging against the tide of something new that had the semblance and behavior of humanity but really wasn't. It was not a clash of civilizations or of values or of cultures; it was a question of which organ, which chamber of the heart, which one of its clear five senses would humanity cut off to join modernity. — Andre Aciman

Finally, when they asked him to speak, he found her gray eyes.
His voice was husky and raspy, but his words were clear. "Livia. You love me."
Beckett let her go as she climbed back onto Blake's bed. Blake moved slowly, but he seemed determined and winced only a little as he reached for her shoulders and pulled Livia against his chest. She wanted to say something, but her sobs took those words from her.
His raspy voice moved her hair with his precious, perfect words. "You're here. With me."
Livia grabbed a fistful of his hospital gown. The strength that had sustained her dissolved into gratitude. To see his light, his face, everything that was Blake again brought relief like she'd never known. He rubbed her back as her body shook with sobs. — Debra Anastasia

His raspy voice cut through the blackness, darker than the blackness. 'Mine. — Laura Oliva

This one," he said, "is for my wife."
With a pointed glance, Gideon signaled the band to start. An instantly recognizable bass beat ratcheted up my pulse.
"Lifehouse!" Shawny crowed, clapping her hands. "I love them!"
"He's calling you his wife already!" Megumi yelled, leaning toward me. "How freaking' lucky are you?"
I didn't glance at her. I couldn't. My attention was riveted on Gideon as he looked directly at me and sang, telling me in a lusciously raspy voice that he was desperate for change and starving for truth.
He was answering my song.
My eyes burned even as my heart began to beat with a different rhythm. Had I thought he'd be unemotional? My Good, he was killing me, baring his soul in the rough timbre of his voice.
"Holy fuck," Cary said, his eyes on the stage. "The man can sing."
I was hanging by a moment, too, hanging on to every word, hearing his message about chasing after me and falling more in love. — Sylvia Day

My voice has always been kind of distinct - even when I was four years old, my mom told me that people would be like, 'Why does your daughter always sound like a chain smoker?' I've always had this deep, raspy voice. — Banks

The leech didn't stay long. Only long enough to check his bandages and proclaim this the most miraculous recovery he'd ever witnessed.
"I'll let the others know," Phantom said.
Adara nodded as she returned to sit on the edge of Christian's bed. He had yet to speak with words. But his loving gaze told her volumes. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Christian."
He swallowed, then coughed.
"Easy," she said, afraid he might tear the stitches in his chest.
"I'm sorry, Adara," he said, his voice raspy and strained. His words baffled her.
"Sorry for what?"
"That I disappointed you."
Her tears started anew. "You are never a disappointment to me, Christian. Never ... unless you die on me. That would make me dreadfully disappointed, and then I should have to kill you for it."
The corners of his lips lifted a tiny bit. — Kinley MacGregor

Hunter walked out of the waves, and without any pretense, he wrapped her in his arms. She looked up at him, her eyes searing his.

He bent his head lower, his voice a raspy whisper. "I've never met anyone like you. — Lisa Kessler

I, Galloran, master of this castle, rightful heir to the throne at Trensicourt, dub thee Lord Jason of Caberton, herby transmitting all rights and priveleges befitting a nobleman of rank and title."
Jason arose, moved by the simple ceremony despite the Blind King's ruined castle, raspy voice, and tarnished crown.
"What about me?" Rachel asked testily.
"You can be my cook," Jason said, unable to resist. — Brandon Mull

His father asked Ethan in a raspy voice, "You spend time with your son?" "Much as I can," he'd answered, but his father had caught the lie in his eyes. "It'll be your loss, Ethan. Day'll come, when he's grown and it's too late, that you'd give a kingdom to go back and spend a single hour with your son as a boy. To hold him. Read a book to him. Throw a ball with a person in whose eyes you can do no wrong. He doesn't see your failings yet. He looks at you with pure love and it won't last, so you revel in it while it's here." Ethan thinks often of that conversation, mostly when he's lying awake in bed at night and everyone else is asleep, and his life screaming past at the speed of light - the weight of bills and the future and his prior failings and all these moments he's missing - all the lost joy - perched like a boulder on his chest. — Blake Crouch

What did you - " He swallowed. His voice was raspy. "What did you do to him?"
"Sightseeing. Your turn."
He shivered. "No, that's all right. — Steven Gould

He gripped the back of her neck again in that purely dominating way that made her melt. "We're finishing this when we get back." His voice was a low, raspy growl. — Katie Reus

But Beckett never flinched. She felt his throat vibrate as he sighed her name with relief. He tilted his head back until it rested on hers.
"Don't ever die in my head again. Please, never again," he told her, his voice raspy. — Debra Anastasia

You want to know if that's the only reason I called, Vivian? he asked finally, his voice octaves and octaves lower than Daytime Clark. Raspy, gruff, rough-and-tumble. — Alice Clayton

Jacque leaned over and whispered in Sally's ear, "I give it two days before he lays one on her."
"You're being generous. I say less than twenty four hours."
"Is that a bet?" Jacque asked, eyebrows raised.
"Better believe it," Sally answered. Her lips eased into a crooked smile.
Jen leaned around Sally and glared at her two best friends. "What are you two betting on?"
"Good grief. What, does she have eagle ears or something?"
"No, you dork. Your whisper is just you talking in normal volume but making your voice raspy. Really, you sound more like a chick who's been smoking for thirty years."
Jen shrugged. "I'm just throwing that out there. You can take it and apply it at your leisure."
Fane was chuckling at Jen's words when Jacque elbowed him, causing him to cough."You don't get to laugh, wolf-man."
Jacque turned back to Jen. "Thank you for that observation, Sherlock."
"Always glad to help a friend in need, Watson." Jen grinned at Jacque's irritated look. — Quinn Loftis

Do you think about how I look when you kiss me?"
"Yes." His voice was raspy. "I think about your long red hair and you sweet mouth, and the way you little body feels when its pressed up against me, and I just want to put my hands on you. Everywhere. And I forget that I am ugly and alone and confused as hell. — Amy Harmon

I've been waiting half an hour for you to wake up." His voice was uneven and raspy.

"Is that right?" she murmured. — Katie Reus

I don't ask for a miracle," Helmar resumed, "but I do need speed, boldness, and sagacity." He was in the red leather chair beyond the end of Wolfe's desk, with his briefcase on the little table at his elbow. His voice was a raspy oratorical baritone, hard and bony like him. He was going on. "And discretion - that is essential. You have it, I know. As for me, I am a senior partner in a law firm of the highest repute, with offices at Forty Wall Street. A young woman for whom I am responsible has disappeared, and there is reason to fear that she is doing something foolish and may even be in jeopardy. She must be found as quickly as possible. — Rex Stout

Rachel," came a raspy voice from the upper level, and both Trent and I turned. It was Quen, wrapped in a blanket as if it was a death shroud, the black-haired intern at his side, supporting him. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and I could see him wavering as he stood there. "Don't touch Trenton," he said, his gravelly voice clear in the hush, "or I'm going to have to come down there ... and smack you around. — Kim Harrison

He did, however, invite Jobs to visit him at his hotel before the concert. Jobs recalled: We sat on the patio outside his room and talked for two hours. I was really nervous, because he was one of my heroes. And I was also afraid that he wouldn't be really smart anymore, that he'd be a caricature of himself, like happens to a lot of people. But I was delighted. He was as sharp as a tack. He was everything I'd hoped. He was really open and honest. He was just telling me about his life and about writing his songs. He said, "They just came through me, it wasn't like I was having to compose them. That doesn't happen anymore, I just can't write them that way anymore." Then he paused and said to me with his raspy voice and little smile, "But I still can sing them. — Walter Isaacson

You won't kiss me for diamonds," he said, his voice slightly raspy, "but you will for chocolates?"
Poppy nodded. — Lisa Kleypas

I don't think I sound like Janis Joplin. I'm a woman with a raspy voice. — Brittany Howard

Silence is love just as your raspy voice is a bird. — Roberto Bolano

Jen leaned around Sally and glared at her two best friends. "What are you two betting on?"
"Good grief. What, does she have eagle ears or something?"
"No you dork. Your whisper is just you talking in normal volume but making your voice raspy. Really, you sound more like a chick who's been smoking for thirty years." Jen shrugged. "I'm just throwing that out there. You can take it and apply it at your leisure."
Fane was chuckling at Jen's words when Jacque elbowed him, causing him to cough.
"You don't get to laugh, wolf-man." Jacque turned back to Jen. "Thank you for that observation, Sherlock. — Quinn Loftis

WHAT AM I? I howled at him as he retreated. A voice, deathly familiar, prickled at the back of my mind, instilling a sense of calm that came from deep inside, an answer to a question that was asked and answered somewhere in the depths of me. Soul eater, it said in a raspy, whispering voice. Succubus. — Robert J. Crane