Sound Box Quotes & Sayings

Jealous of the crazy gay kid. That doesn't sound right."
"Hey, Sol," she said, her tone getting serious for a second.
"Those are two things about you out of a million. Don't box yourself in. — John Corey Whaley

Some of us are fated to live in a box from which there is only temporary release. We of the damned-up spirits, of the thwarted feelings, of the blocked hearts, and the pent-up thoughts, we who long to blast out, flood forth in a torrent of rage or joy or even madness, but there is nowhere for us to go, nowhere in the world because no one will have us as we are, and there is nothing to do except to embrace the secret pleasures of our sublimations, the arc of a sentence, the kiss of a rhyme, the image that forms on paper or canvas, the inner cantata, the cloistered embroidery, the dark and dreaming needlepoint from hell or heaven or purgatory or none of those three, but there must be some sound and fury from us, some clashing cymbals in the void. — Siri Hustvedt

...there is no sound in nature that makes men move along faster than the pumping of a shotgun. — C.J. Box

Order to find them at the bottom of the box, Rodolphe disturbed all the others, and mechanically began rummaging amidst this mass of papers and things, finding pell-mell bouquets, garters, a black mask, pins, and hair - hair! dark and fair, some even, catching in the hinges of the box, broke when it was opened. Thus dallying with his souvenirs, he examined the writing and the style of the letters, as varied as their orthography. They were tender or jovial, facetious, melancholy; there were some that asked for love, others that asked for money. A word recalled faces to him, certain gestures, the sound of a voice; sometimes, however, he remembered nothing at all. — Gustave Flaubert

Mr. nelson sighed and stalked across the room to me. He thrust the velvet box into my hands. I cracked the box, and the sound echoed through the room. A glittering diamond stared back at me. But it wasn't just any diamond. It was two carats of commitment in a platinum setting. — Katie Ashley

When someone dismissively answers "Of course a tree makes a sound if no one's nearby," they are merely demonstrating their inability to ponder an event nobody attended. They're finding it too difficult to take themselves out of the equation. They somehow continue to imagine themselves present when they are absent. — Robert Lanza

My dear Princess, if you could creep unseen about your City, peeping at will through the curtain-shielded windows, you would come to think that all the world was little else than a big nursery full of crying children with none to comfort them. The doll is broken: no longer it sweetly sqeaks in answer to our pressure, "I love you, kiss me." The drum lies silent with the drumstick inside, no longer do we make a brave noise in the nursery. The box of tea-things we have clumsily put out foot upon; there will be no more merry parties around the three-legged stool. The tin trumpet will not play the note we want to sound; the wooden bricks keep falling down; the toy has exploded and burnt our fingers. Never mind, little man, little woman, we will try and mend things to-morrow — Jerome K. Jerome

When I was a child I had a fishless aquarium. My father set it up for me with gravel and plants and pebbles before he'd got the fish and I asked him to leave it as it was for a while. The pump kept up a charming burble, the green-gold light was wondrous when the room was dark. I put in a china mermaid and a tin horseman who maintained a relationship like that of the figures on Keat's Grecian urn except that the horseman grew rusty. Eventually fish were pressed upon me and they seemed an intrusion, I gave them to a friend. All that aquarium wanted was the sound of the pump, the gently waving plants, the mysterious pebbles and the silent horseman forever galloping to the mermaid smiling in the green-gold light. I used to sit and look at them for hours. The mermaid and the horseman were from my father. I have them in a box somewhere here, I'm not yet ready to take them out and look at them again. — Russell Hoban

I wanted to get more serialized. I had this idea for an event that would click onto everybody's mortality. I said, "I want somebody to die." Fortunately for me, when I was toying with that idea, John Landgraf, who's the head of FX but also a very smart executive, came up with the idea of the ashes in the maracas. He called me up and said, "Listen, what about this, they get the ashes in a box and when they get them, they shake them and they sound like maracas." And I was like, "Okay, now I've got my throughline." — Denis Leary

God is so pure that if we were to behold Him within the context of our natural bodies, we would be destroyed because of the impurity of sin in our flesh that was genetically passed down to us through the sin of Adam and Eve. God purifies, or makes purely holy, everything He touches. That's right; the purification process of His total presence would destroy our natural bodies completely, because no good thing is in us. Isn't that a mystery? But then, it's a mystery to me how He made evergreens to stay green perpetually, or how fish spawn, or how birds sing so beautifully. We cannot put God in a box, or try to intellectualize His every facet. We would just sound pompous. — Marion Green

To honour its first creation, no sound was permitted within the home of Muse for a full year, no sound save that of its Art: the slow, crisp, click of polished brass gears, the sensual hiss of pneumatic release, the insidious sibilance and decisive thud of a withdrawing and thrusting piston, and the soft groan of the boy held within the cube as each rod ran him through, over and over and over.
Powered by this action, the music box played.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down...
And another piston rammed home.
A mechanism of intricate complexity exchanging great pain for a little beauty. This, here, then, was Life.
Muse was fulfilled. — Cameron Rogers

If he doesn't come out soon and tell us what's going on, I am going in there."
A rush of relief flooded Harper at the sound of Drea in the hallway.
"As much as you think she loves you, shortcake, she loves him a bit more. Give them a minute."
Trent laughed. Harper opened her eyes and looked at him. "My money is on Drea," she whispered.
"Can you get your stupid frigging arms off me?"
Drea and Cujo burst through the door. Cujo's arms were wrapped tightly around Drea's middle, and the angle she was bending his fingers back to release his grip had to hurt.
"I tried to stop her but it's like getting a feral cat into a shoe box." Cujo let out a grunt and let Drea go. Harper looked from Cujo to Drea, desperate to bury the laugh she could feel brewing. — Scarlett Cole

You have this resonant box that sounds cool when you smack it, so why not go for it? — Kaki King

I have tried every amp, distortion box, gadget etc. that has ever been made since 1967 to present and nothing has sounded like the Tonebone. It has become an incredible asset to my sound and I recommend this to anyone who is looking for that NATURAL warm sound with sustain for days and days! Buy this now! — Steve Lukather

I played guitar from the age of four or five. Every year there would be a slightly larger triangular box under the Christmas tree, until finally I got one that was big enough to make a proper sound. — Johnny Marr

No city owns me, you know what I'm saying? I'm from New York, but no city owns me. Nobody can bottle up my sound and box me in. Yes, I am a rapper, but am I a New York rapper? No. I am from New York, I love New York to death, but I will not conform myself to one place, no. — ASAP Ferg

An eerie silence has descended over the house. Every few minutes, I hear a grunt and the scraping sound of a box dragging along the floor. Other than that, there's nothing. It's like the silence is the actual articulation of the emptiness we all feel. — Siobhan Davis

I really love the EMS Vocoder 2000, which is a pretty nice little box. You put one thing in one end and another in the other end, and you're able to change vocals by the sound and do a lot - it's just got a great sound. But the thing is, it's a bit clunky, so it's kind of hard to use it. — Tim Gane

YEN
What happens if you take a cup? Put it to your lips. A cup of desire. Of dazzling colour. Of intoxicating aroma. You can't resist. Drink. And in the bottom of the cup. There is a fish. And the fish says "You have uncovered me! Now I am condemned. To die."
What happens if you find a box? 35mm by 35mm exactly. And are curious. You open it quickly. Of course. And inside there is an eye. And the eye seems to think that the box is its exclusive property. And fixes you with a terrifying glare.
What happens if you catch a soft sound? A voice whispering in the air. Above the tree tops. And you can't quite hear what it is saying. But you have to listen. So you float up. Then you find you can't come down again. When the conversation is finished. — Jay Woodman

There is an unseen sweetness in the stomach's emptiness. We are lutes. When the sound box is filled, no music can come forth. When the brain and the belly burn from fasting, every moment a new song rises out of the fire. The mists clear, and a new vitality makes you spring up the steps before you ... — Rumi

Dekker kicked out, connecting with my left shin, and I dropped him for a second. That was all the time he needed to grab a weapon. Without thinking I pulled out a similar item for the box. And that was how we ended up fighting a duel with plastic lightsabers. We must have looked strange - two middle aged men slashing away at each other with toy swords complete with sound effects. — Leslie Langtry

My friend opened a small box which Lestrade had produced. Inside lay a beautiful silver cigarette case monogrammed with Holmes's initials, underneath which ran the words, "With the Respects of Scotland Yard, November 1888."
Sherlock Holmes sat with his lips parted, but no sound emerged.
"Thank you," he managed at length. — Lyndsay Faye

My grandmother had a very interesting theory; she said that each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't strike them all by ourselves; just as in the experiment, we need oxygen and a candle to help. In this case, the oxygen, for example, would come from the breath of the person you love; the candle could be any kind of food, music, caress, word, or sound that engenders the explosion that lights one of the matches — Laura Esquivel

And b-t-w, if anyone asks you what's in the box, I'd say 'feminine supplies.'"
The box was large and heavy, and there was a distinct clanging sound as I carried it. "As in tampons?"
"Keely's not going to ask questions. Ali's busy with the twins, and everyone else around here is male. Tampons scare the bejeezus out of them, my dad included, but if the person who asks is a Were, they'd smell a lie. Hence, feminine supplies."
"Because we're females, and they're our supplies?" I guessed.
"No. Because weapons are feminine." Lake gave me an insulted look. "Why do you think I named my gun Matilda? — Jennifer Lynn Barnes

A swooshing sound broke the predawn silence. A tiny marmoset monkey and an ostrich pushed a cardboard box labeled "Donations" through the snow. — Mikael Barstow

I think our particular sound has come by just not adhering to any specific sound. For us, it's about the song, and being able to fit in to what is appropriate. When we sit down, we're not talking about what type of band we're gonna be within a specific genre - there's a uniqueness to all of us individually that throws putting anything in a box out the window. — Nate Ruess

I love finding out-of-the-box inspirations and blending them with what I've done in the past. And when I started to experiment with genres, it didn't sound forced. Maybe that's because it's all music that I listened to growing up, and it's all music that I love. — Avicii

The next few hours were, well, how to describe it? Ask someone to lock you in a box with no light, nobody to talk to, and then have them beat on it with a tree limb to make a hideous sound. Do that for hours, and if you're still not bat-shit crazy, you'll know how we felt. — Mike Mullin

So I went ahead and made me a guitar. Igot me a cigar box, I cut me a round hole in the middle of it, takeme a little piece of plank, nailed it onto that cigar box, and I gotme some screen wire and I made me a bridge back there and raised itup high enough that it would sound inside that little box, and got mea tune out of it. I kept my tune and I played from then on. — Lightnin' Hopkins

In my box of sound bites there are no jackhammers, no snowmobiles, no Jet Skis, no children wailing. Music but no Muzak.
It's my box. Put what you want in yours. — Joan Oliver Goldsmith

The first time I ever recorded, which was into my boom-box, I was like, 'Wow, check that out.' It sounded great. The narcotic of it was so intense - it was pleasurable. I was like, 'You sound like a band.' Then I ended up spending the rest of my life trying to chase that initial high again. — Ian MacKaye

In regards to your love life, you're just entering into a whole of pain if you talk about it. If you've never said anything, there are no sound bites to haunt you when you're crying into a box of Kleenex after it all goes wrong. — Lily James

It seems to be the special peculiarity of human beings that they reflect: they think about thinking and know that they know. This, like other feedback systems, may lead to vicious circles and confusions if improperly managed, but self-awareness makes human experience resonant. It imparts that simultaneous "echo" to all that we think and feel as the box of a violin reverberates with the sound of the strings. It gives depth and volume to what would otherwise be shallow and flat. — Alan Watts

I've gone into auditions and I think they have an assumption about me when they see my photo and then I open my mouth and they say, 'Where exactly are you from? And you were born in Ethiopia? But you're Irish, but you also kind of sound English. That's really strange.' They want to put you in a box in LA, that's how they tend to do it there, so if you don't fit in that box, it makes it more difficult. — Ruth Negga

Eventually I took a square of white chocolate out of the box, and unwrapped it, and then I did something I had never done before. I put the chocolate in my mouth, letting it soften until the last possible moment, and then as I chewed it slowly, I prayed that Mr. Pirzada's family was safe and sound. I had never prayed for anything before, had never been taught or told to, but I decided, given the circumstances, that it was something I should do. That night when I went to the bathroom I only pretended to brush my teeth, for I feared that I would somehow rinse the prayer out as well. I wet the brush and rearranged the tube of paste to prevent my parents from asking any questions, and fell asleep with sugar on my tongue. — Jhumpa Lahiri

It's amazing. It's actually build from old Siemens Telefunken transistors from the 60ties. There is like 10 in there. It's the most powerful distortion you can have. It does not only do distortion, it does so many weird things. You can't control it, it's sound different all the time. But it's an endless source for fantastic sounds. For example the track "Transit" is entirely made with this box. You have to put the guitar sound in. It's like a pedal. — Christian Fennesz

A guitar is more than just a sound box ... it is part of your soul. — Manuel Velazquez

I'm standing by the cereal, reaching for a box of Honey Nut Cheerios, when I feel my chest clenching but not unclenching. It clenches tighter and tighter, like someone has wrapped a corset around it. My palms are wet. My head is compressing, growing and shrinking at the same time. I can hear my breathing, and it's so amplified that, to my own ears, I sound like Darth Vader. A woman at the end of the aisle is frozen as she watches me. She looks scared...My breathing is getting louder, and I cover my ears to block it out. And that's when the ceiling starts to spin and the air disappears and my lungs won't stop working and I can't breathe at all. I drop everything and run away from the cart and all that food until I'm out the door. I stand in the parking lot, bent over at the waist, breathing in the fresh night air, and then I lie flat on the ground, as if this will open my lungs wider and make them work again, only the breath won't come. — Jennifer Niven

As the wildly favorable word of mouth spread, however, the box office receipts began to soar. First, fans of musicals came. Then the ever-growing cadre of Julie Andrews devotees. Finally, those longing for a happy ending - anywhere - began to turn out in droves. At which point the oddest thing of all happened: all these fans of the movie returned to see it again. And then once more. And then once again - until the phenomenon eventually resulted in a record-setting first release run of over four and a half years. — Tom Santopietro

Ask anyone with a big book collection, and they'll tell you moving them was the hardest part of the move. Take down a bookshelf and there's often no less than four, possibly up to eight, good Lord if it's over ten, boxes of dense material. This is the single greatest argument for welcoming ebooks. Abandoning print and having your Kindle on display instead doesn't sound like such a bad idea while carrying book box number seven to the car. — Lauren Leto

Discussing it later, many of us felt we suffered a mental dislocation at that moment, which only grew worse through the course of the remaining deaths. The prevailing symptom of this state was an inability to recall any sound. Truck doors slammed silently; Lux's mouth screamed silently; and the street, the creaking tree limbs, the streetlight clicking different colors, the electric buzz of the pedestrian crossing box - all these usually clamorous voices hushes, or had begun shrieking at a pitch too high for us to hear, though they sent chills up our spines. Sound returned only once Lux had gone. Televisions erupted with canned laughter. Fathers splashed, soaking aching backs. — Jeffrey Eugenides

Comics play a trite but lusty tune on the C natural keys of human nature. They rouse the most primitive, but also the most powerful, reverberations in the noisy cranial sound-box of consciousness, drowning out more subtle symphonies. Comics scorn finesse, thereby incurring the wrath of linguistic adepts. They defy the limits of accepted fact and convention, thus amortizing to apoplexy the ossified arteries of routine thought. — William Moulton Marston

When he settles back onto his knee, he wipes a tear away from his own eyes. "Sherry, until I met you I didn't know what life was. I had no clue that I wasn't even alive. It's like you came along and woke up my soul." He's looking straight at her as he talks. He doesn't sound nervous at all, like he's determined to prove to her how serious he is. He takes a deep breath and then continues. "I'll never be able to give you everything you deserve, but I'll definitely spend the rest of my life trying."
He pulls the ring out of the box and slides it on her finger. "I'm not asking you to marry me, Sherry. I'm telling you to marry me, because I can't live without you."
Sherry wraps her arms around his neck and they hold onto one another and cry. "Okay," she finally says. When they begin to kiss, his hand reaches over and turns off the camera. — Colleen Hoover

Wind rips through the crags a thousand feet above, nothing moving in this godforsaken town, and the mule skinner knows that something is wrong. Two miles south stands Bartholomew Packer's mine, the Godsend, a twenty-stamp mill that should be filling this box canyon with the thudding racket of the rock crushers pulverizing ore. The sound of the stamps in operation is the sound of money being made, and only two things will stop them - Christmas and tragedy. He dismounts — Blake Crouch

I love finding out why people don't love things. And if you ask people why they don't like things, particularly when they get into this sort of culture box, you find out that they're not liking things because of what people are going to think about them, and not because of what the things actually sound like. — Stew