Sibilants Quotes & Sayings

Be the voice of night and Florida in my ear.
Use dusky words and dusky images.
Darken your speech.
Speak, even, as if I did not hear you speaking,
But spoke for you perfectly in my thoughts,
Conceiving words,
As the night conceives the sea-sounds in silence,
And out of their droning sibilants makes
A serenade. — Wallace Stevens

We pass between sea and sky with unaccountable, humiliating ease, as if there were no firmament between the firmaments, no above or below, here or there, now or then, with only the feeble conventions of language, our contrived principles, and our love of one another's light to keep our own light from going out; abandon any one of them, and we dissolve in darkness like salt in water. — Russell Banks

But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him! — J.K. Rowling

It's interesting to see what people are saying about me. I like keep up with the latest rumors! A while back there was a rumor that I was going to do a film with Demi Moore about the takeover of Commodore computers! — Warwick Davis

Controllers want to prove that their perspective is the correct one. That proves that they are right - as a matter of self-worth, not just of accuracy. Controllers equate being right with being effective. — Fred Kofman

I loved him the way the moon loves the stars - that is what we say, when a person fills the world with light. — V.E Schwab

Anybody who's been married to a man for forty odd years knows he's all talk. — Michael Parkinson

The world is full of people who all want the same thing, and you have to do a little something extra to make them remember you. — Candace Bushnell

Your life is your living enterprise, your heart is the reception and mind is the warehouse. Doing a warm welcome in your reception and storing only the good things in a neat and clean way in your mental warehouse, will bring you success — Keerthi Singhe

I'm a loner. I like to be alone. I'm socially awkward. — Guillermo Diaz

The willow is full plumage and is no help, with its insinuating whispers.
Rendevous, it says. Terraces;
the sibilants run up my spine, a shiver as if in fever. The summer dress rustles against the flesh of my thighs, the grass grows underfoot, at the edges of my eyes there are movements, in the branches; feathers, flittings, grace notes, tree into bird, metamorphosis run wild. Goddesses are possible now and the air suffuses with desire ...
Winter is not so dangerous. I need hardness, cold, rigidity; not this heaviness, as if I'm a melon on a stem, this liquid ripeness. — Margaret Atwood

Cash is always the deciding factor in such matters of moral politics; nothing ever gets done unless motivated by commerce or greed. — Jasper Fforde

Over many decades, our usual practice is that if something we like goes down, we buy more and more. Sometimes something happens, you realize you're wrong, and you get out. But if you develop correct confidence in your judgment, buy more and take advantage of stock prices. — Charlie Munger

Maybe Laura's real problem came in admitting this: there was nothing new under the sun. To write a story would be, somehow deep down, to embrace her limits, to admit that, indeed, she would someday die - if not of a worm or a ceiling, then of something else. The very nature of a story admitted this reality. To be a writer was to say, yes, I am just another Murasaki, and it is quite possible that no one will remember my name. — L.L. Barkat

And she could hear a sound, rising steadily, not in steps like a scale, but in a slow glissando, and not quite a violin or a voice, but somewhere in between, rising and rising unbearably, without ever leaving the audible range, a violin-voice that was just on the edge of making sense, telling her something urgent in sibilants and vowels more primitive than words. It may have been inside the room, or out in the corridor, or only in her ears, like tinnitus. She may even have been making the noise herself. She did not care - she had to get out. — Ian McEwan

The audience is invisible and that's good. Somewhere my voice is drifting through a swine barn and the sound of it seems to perk up the sows' appetite. Or a lady is listening on headphones as she jogs along a beach, running to my cadence. Or a dog sits in front of the radio, head cocked, and the sibilants excite him in some mysterious way. A dog's humorist, that's me. — Garrison Keillor

Today we are living the grotesque spectacle of the poisoning
of the earth by the nineteenth-century hero system of unrestrained
material production. This is perhaps the greatest and most pervasive
evil to have emerged in all of history, and it may even
eventually defeat all of mankind. Still there are no "twisted" people
whom we can hold responsible for this. — Ernest Becker