Sounds Of Love Quotes & Sayings

We're all black, and we all love to be black, and we all sing from our own hymn sheet. We're all surely black people, but we may be finally approaching a point of human history where you can't talk up or down to us anymore, but only to us. He's talking down to white people - how curious it sounds the other way round! In order to say such a thing, one would have to think collectively of white people, as a people of one mind who speak with one voice - a thought experiment in which we have no practice. But it's worth trying. It's only when you play the record backward that you hear the secret message. 3 — Zadie Smith

I guess the one-liner kind of comic sounds like a guy who can talk and talk and whatever the subject is, he can pull out a one-liner, but I couldn't do that. I didn't like the association. I mean, I love Steven Wright, but so many people started saying "Steven Wright" to me, and I would get mad, because I never wanted to be thought of as copying anybody. — Mitch Hedberg

Oh, gentle feelings, soft sounds, the goodness and the gradual stilling of a soul that has been moved; the melting happiness of the first tender, touching joys of love- where are you? — Ivan Turgenev

I have an immoderate passion for water; for the sea, though so vast, so restless, so beyond one's comprehension; for rivers, beautiful, yet fugitive and elusive; but especially for marshes, teeming with all that mysterious life of the creatures that haunt them. A marsh is a whole world within a world, a different world, with a life of its own, with its own permanent denizens, its passing visitors, its voices, its sounds, its own strange mystery. — Guy De Maupassant

I'd love a werebear. But I guess you need that seductive element of danger. And though bears can be dangerous, when you say werebear it just sounds kind of cuddly. Probably has a rainbow on his belly. — Kandyse McClure

The few times he made the mistake of relaxing in a woman's bed after a quick lay proved to be serious mistakes. They wanted to coddle and always asked the questions that made him cringe, 'What are you thinking?', 'Do you love me?', 'Where do you see this going?', 'Are you as happy as I am?', 'Why do you keep calling me by my sister's name?', or his personal favorite 'I wonder what our babies will look like.' No, sex was best kept at a woman's house, hotel room or better yet in the backseat of a car. Thank god his neighbor seemed to share the same attitude. He hated the idea of waking up to the sounds of another man grunting and moaning. With his luck the sounds would filter into his dream and he would end up having a gay dream. — R.L. Mathewson

I love that name. A country named Chad. Sounds like somebody who lived next door to the Brady Bunch. But if Chad actually lived next door to the Bradys, Greg would be roasting over a slow fire and Marcia would be standing naked on an auction block, because Chad is one of the hungriest, craziest, most desperate places on the planet. — Gary Brecher

Beware of solipsism
Funny word. Sounds like it means "love of melons" or something. I looked it up. It means believing that "the self is the only reality."
Am I solipsist? — Jerry Spinelli

Most people who die in fires don't burn to death; they die from smoke inhalation that kills the respiratory system. that's why the fire service is going on and on about smoke detectors. These little ten-dollar gadgets are one of the truly wonderful inventions of man. The wake you up from a deep slumber so that you and your family and your dog or cat or whatever can get out of the house in time to live and call the fire department. If this sounds like a public service announcement, it is. If you don't have one, buy one today. They make great Christmas gifts. Plus they're cheap. Give a gift of love to a loved one you love. End of announcement. — Larry Brown

I know it. I know I shall make beastly mistakes, Father-"
"The world does not forgive mistakes so quickly, my girl." He sounds bitter and sad.
"If the world will not forgive me," I say softly, "I shall have to learn to forgive myself."
He nods in understanding.
"And how will you marry? Or do you intend to marry?"
I think of Kartik, and tears threaten. "I shall meet someone one day, as Mother found you. — Libba Bray

Maybe I'll get you a painting for Christmas," I said.
"We don't buy Christmas presents for each other," Edward said.
We were both staring at the fireplace as if visualizing that make-believe fire. "Maybe I'll start. One of those big-eyed children or a clown on velvet."
"I won't hang it if I don't like it."
I glanced at him. "Unless it's from Donna."
He was very still suddenly. "Yes."
"Maybe I'll tell her how much you love those pictures of dogs playing poker and she can buy you some prints."
"She wouldn't believe it," he said.
"No, but I bet I could come up with something that she would believe that you'd hate just as much."
He stared at me. "You wouldn't."
"I might."
"This sounds like the opening to blackmail. What do you want? — Laurell K. Hamilton

Hell if I know. I'm twenty-six, single, just signed a year lease on an apartment ... " She touched her eyebrows with her fingertips. "Damn, why did I move back here?"
"Sorry." I grimaced. "The job market isn't as bad as it was. I'd give you a job if you really needed one."
"Thanks. Not sure how good of a bouncer I would be."
"Maybe hair holder for drunk girls."
"Sounds great," she said flatly then made a gagging sound. — Nicole Castro

With all due respect for the wondrous ways people have invented to amuse themselves and one another on paved surfaces, I find that this exodus from the land makes me unspeakably sad. I think of the children who will never know, intuitively, that a flower is a plant's way of making love, or what silence sounds like, or that trees breathe out what we breathe in. — Barbara Kingsolver

God rejoices when one repentant sinner returns. Statistically that is not very interesting. But for God, numbers never seem to matter. Who knows whether the world is kept from destruction because of one, two, or three people who have continued to pray when the rest of humanity has lost hope and dissipated itself? From God's perspective, one hidden act of repentance, one little gesture of selfless love, one moment of true forgiveness is all that is needed to bring God from his throne to run to his returning son and to fill the heavens with sounds of divine joy. — Henri J.M. Nouwen

I begin my life. I live again. I meet a young girl called Valeria. She smiles easily. She laughs tender sounds that pull at my heart. I'm too young to be profound but she makes me feel so safe. So cherished. I am thirty years old. I bump into a woman I knew when she was a girl. Valeria looks annoyed to see me. She lives in the future. Where the world is turning. I live within the past. Where the people are trapped and screaming and alone. I live within the past when Valeria and I were in love. She's waiting for the cab to come, her foot tapping against the sidewalk. Her eyes glancing at her watch every few minutes. I'm eager to reunite our lives through some kind of friendship. I'm so eager to know her again, as she was when she was a child. But Valeria lives within the future. I live within the past. Have the two ever gotten along? Have they ever even met? — F.K. Preston

Sounds like that happens to you a lot. Bet your girlfriend wasn't thrilled, though." She wasn't sure why she said it, but it came out before she could think. "Who said I have a girlfriend?" He said, raising his scarred eyebrow. His dark eyes crinkled. "No one," she said. " Well, I don't anymore, if anyone's interested."
"Who's interested?"
"Are you?" He looked her straight in the eye.
"I could ask the same of you," she scoffed.
"So what if I was? Interested, I mean." He shrugged.
"It wouldn't be a surprise," she said. "I'm sure half the crew has a crush on me. — Melissa De La Cruz

I'm interested in finding sounds and ideas that help bring the audience into the world that we [moviemakes] are all trying to create. Sometimes that's with synthesizers, and sometimes that's with French horns. I love using all of them, depending on the scenario. — Joseph Trapanese

isn't it time for your soul, which has been ashamed of your meat for so long, to thank your meat for finally doing something wonderful?" I thought that over. "That sounds right, too," I said. "You have to actually do it," she said. "How?" I said. "Hold your hand in front of your eye," she said, "and look at those strange and clever animals with love and gratitude, and tell them out loud: 'Thank you, Meat.'" So I did. I held my hands in front of my eyes, and I said out loud and with all my heart: 'Thank you, Meat. — Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

I love the language, it sounds as if it should be writ on satin with syllables which breathe of the sweet South — Lord Byron

When they were both five, Charlie and David asked their mother where babies come from. Charlie's mom folded herself into an armchair, sat Charlie on her lap, and pointed to pictures in what Charlie had always thought was a book of sea creatures. She helped him sounds out the scientific names. David's mother had a more whimsical answer. "When two people make love, a little blue fair leaps from the daddy to the mummy, connecting them like a ribbon of light. And sometimes, the fairy leaves a baby in the mummy's tummy." Would the fairies leave any more babies in his mummy's tummy? David wanted to know. "No, Davie." Why not? "Because Daddy's fairies are lazy. — John M. Cusick

Grazing over every part of her statuesque figure, I do give in to her every wish. The sounds that escape her enlighten my senses, becoming aware of her metamorphosis as she becomes even more beautiful to me. Nothing more seems to matter as I lie here being gentle with Nadia, forever determined to please her, always changing and never changing, my love always and forever being her greatest adventure, she being all that I need and love now and forever. — Luccini Shurod

If you think of exercise as a 60-minute commitment 3 times a week at the gym, you're missing the point completely. If you think that going on a diet has something to do with nutrition, you don't see the forest through the trees. It is a lifestyle. I know it sounds cliche, but you have to find things you love to do. — Brett Hoebel

Acting was just another part of my life, as it still is today. It's 1 of the 10 things I love doing. It's never just been my life. As cheesy as it sounds, all my eggs were never in just one basket. I had a thousand baskets going on. — Kaley Cuoco

Love, indeed, lends a precious seeing to the eye, and hearing to the ear: all sights and sounds are glorified by the light of its presence. — Arthur Frederick Saunders

Just lay down on the beach, with nothing intellectual or constructive to do , other than soaking in the sun, and listening to the refreshing sounds of the water waves and admiring the smiles of the near and dear ones that we love. — Tina Sequeira

When he spoke of love, it was in the manner of someone who can recite a phrase in a foreign language but has no idea what it means. He only knows that it sounds pretty. — Roy L. Pickering Jr.

And we will shade
Ourselves whole summers by a river glade;
And I will tell thee stories of the sky,
And breathe thee whispers of its minstrelsy,
My happy love will overwing all bounds!
O let me melt into thee! let the sounds
Of our close voices marry at their birth;
Let us entwine hoveringly! — John Keats

Listen to them again: 'I love you.' Subject, verb, object: the unadorned, impregnable sentence. The subject is a short word, implying the self-effacement of the lover. The verb is longer but unambiguous, a demonstrative moment as the tongue flicks anxiously away from the palate to release the vowel. The object, like the subject, has no consonants, and is attained by pushing the lips forward as if for a kiss. 'I love you.' How serious, how weighted, how freighted it sounds. — Julian Barnes

That's the funny thing," she said. "Men always want to die for something. For someone. I can see the appeal. You do it once and it's done. No more worrying, not knowing, about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I know you all think it sounds brave, but I'll tell you something even braver. To struggle and fight for the ones you love today. And then do it all over again the next day. Every day. For your whole life. It's not as romantic, I admit. But it takes a lot of courage to live for someone, too. — Victor LaValle

Mom! Look. This one is my favorite," Devin said, pulling out a faded pink dress with a red plaid sash. The crinoline petticoat underneath was so old and stiff it made snapping sounds, like beads or fire embers. She dropped the dress over her head, over her clothes. It brushed the floor. "When I'm old enough for it to fit me, I'm going to wear it with purple shoes," she said.
"A bold choice," Kate said as Devin dove back into the trunk. The attic in Kate's mother's house had always fascinated Devin with its promise of hidden treasures. When Kate's mother had been alive, she had let Devin eat Baby Ruth candy bars and drink grape soda and play in this old trunk full of dresses that generations of Morris women had worn to try entice rich men to marry them. Most of the clothes had belonged to Kate's grandmother Marilee, a renowned beauty who, like all the rest, had fallen in love with a poor man instead. — Sarah Addison Allen

It's hard to find words to explain why you love someone, they don't make words with that much passion. And even if they did, there isn't a perfect combination of syllables and sounds to create a word strong enough to explain love. Love is just a filler word, a useless word that tries to do a job that no word can. — Kandi Steiner

Now drawing four fingers up the sides of her stomach, my hands create a kind of invisible wave that sounds beneath her skin. Molding her torso every which way as if it were clay for me to experiment, I study the lines of her iridescent form flowing in a rhythmic beauty that fascinates me into this fixation. My finger circles around the rim of her belly button as if to enjoy the sounds that might come from a crystal glass. Her every touch absorbs my ability to discern thought as I become rested in this feeling of absolute ecstasy. Life without her I know would indefinitely destroy me, having already solemnly delivered my spirit to this angel that comes down to be with me. — Luccini Shurod

According to old frineds who grew up with Stanley Ann Dunham, she became a serious student of Communist and Marxist theories back in high school. One profile even named a few of her radical teachers and administrators at Mercer High, which Dunham attended, whose classrooms formed part of what was called "anarchy alley." What sounds strange is that this avante-garde, supposedly idealistic communist-thinking student of the left met a major oil company executive during the radical 1960s, and not only found him not to be a repulsively evil money-grubbing capitalist pig, but was so taken in by his Big Oil company/military charm that she married him.
Okay, so maybe that's not coincidence. Maybe that's just the power of love. — Mondo Frazier

This one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms. — Galway Kinnell

This book is full of empty love quotes. If you are looking for the meaning of life and love, then this book is for you. You won't find the answers here, of course, but you'll be more encouraged than ever to keep on looking. Or maybe you'll be discouraged. Either way, I'll have your money, and you'll have no answers. Sounds like a fair deal to me. — Dora J. Arod

Have I told you about the tension of opposites? he says. The tension of opposites? Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn't.
You take certain things for granted, even when you know you should never take anything for granted.
A tension of opposites, like a pull on a rubber band. And most of us live somewhere in the middle.Sounds like a wrestling match, I say.
A wrestling match. He laughs. Yes, you could describe life that way.
So which side wins, I ask?
Which side wins? He smiles at me, the crinkled eyes, the crooked teeth.
Love wins. Love always wins. — Mitch Albom

yet she could not resist sometimes yielding to the charm of a woman, not a girl, of a woman confessing, as to her they often did, some scrape, some folly. And whether it was pity, or their beauty, or that she was older, or some accident-like a faint scent, or a violin next door (so strange is the power of sounds at certain moments), she did undoubtedly then feel what men felt. — Virginia Woolf

If there were any seeds of doubt in my mind as to whether I really loved Adam or just some image of Adam, they were all killed by the frost that was tonight's dinner party. No, wait, that sounds like it was some cold, deadly evening. I mean the opposite. I guess I mean that if the flower of my love for Adam wass being stunted by any feelings of doubt, then tonight fully fertilized my seed and allowed it to grow. That works if you don't think about the face that fertilizer is made if shit. — Daniel Handler

We take this idea of love with us into adulthood. Grown up, we hope for a re-creation of what it felt like to be ministered to and indulged. In a secret corner of our mind, we picture a lover who will anticipate our needs, read our hearts, act selflessly and make everything better. It sounds 'romantic'; yet it is a blueprint for disaster. — Alain De Botton

But we are the same, yes, but were not. We are three completely different people, we play three completely different instruments and all epically fail when trying to play each other's" he said as Daniel and I nodded slowly. That was far to true. "I wrote this piece because I love that these three instruments that make three different sounds, are played three different ways and look different, can create such a beautiful harmony if they're played correctly" he swallowed again then looked at Daniel and I "And I think although we are three different people, who - usually - look different, and who come out with three different kinds of ridiculous-ness" he said and we both laughed "If we come together we work perfectly with each other and can in some senses create a beautiful harmony — R.J. Seeley

A band like Depeche Mode would go out and record them hitting a trash can with a steel rod or something and recording it. And that would be one of their sounds of the drums. I love the creativeness of that kind of really raw sampling. — Chino Moreno

The cosmos is a complex amalgamation of sounds. One of the key sounds through which you can experience the cosmic nature of creation is Shambho. — Jaggi Vasudev

I certainly think there are things that impressed me as a child about the church. The smells and the sounds and the pagaentry of it remained with me. The aesthetic I really love. I think a lot of my sense of melody comes from singing those hymns and doing the renaissance music and stuff. — Jonathan Meiburg

I just love crafting and shaping sounds. Actually, many of the sounds that I work with start off as organic instruments - guitar, piano, clarinet, etc. But I do love the rigidity of electronic drums. — Imogen Heap

I have this dog named Marley, and it is a kind of love I had never known. I have a hard time believing Marley did not come from my body. I know that sounds insane, but I feel that connected to her. She made me realize I wanted to adopt children. — Edie Falco

I love a man who knows how to walk. I do like a gentleman, a man who opens the door and a man who walks on the proper side of the street with you. There's something safe about it; he's protecting you. That's a really nice quality. You don't see it as often anymore. I pay attention to those things. I know it sounds silly, but I love that. I'm fortunate to say that I have a good guy. Oh, and he has to have great hands. There's a lot I find sexy in a man, but strong, manly hands are very important. — Lana Parrilla

All those artists and writers who bemoan how hard the work is, and oh, how tedious the creative process, and oh, what a tortured genius they are. Don't buy into it. . . . As if difficulty and struggle and torture somehow confer seriousness upon your chosen work. Doing great work simply because you love it, sounds, in our culture, somehow flimsy, and that's a failing of our culture, not of the choice of work that artists make." This — Timothy Ferriss

On the one hand, I'm a kind of crazy anarchist-sympathizer with a hippie background, so this sounds pretty good to me. Make something for the love of it! But the reality is so much more complicated. — Astra Taylor

He watched God flip through a few records before pulling one. He slid the vinyl out as carefully as Day would before placing it on the turntable. Soon Day's room was filled with the soft sounds of George Howard's Midnight Moods. It was a smooth, sexy jazz album; definitely one for making love to. Day's — A.E. Via

The word philosophy sounds high-minded, but it simply means the love of wisdom. If you love something, you don't just read about it; you hug it, you mess with it, you play with it, you argue with it. — Hugh Jackman

I don't know which end is up. One minute I want to kiss the life out of her, and the next she frustrates the hell out of me. I don't know if I should scratch my watch or wind my ass."
"Welcome to the club, Ronan." Gavin laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "That sure sounds like love to me. — Sara Humphreys

Also she had the power of silent sympathy. That sounds rather dull, I know, but it's not so dull as it sounds. It just means that a person is able to know that you are unhappy, and to love you extra on that account, without bothering you by telling you all the time how sorry she is for you. — E. Nesbit

Abstraction, n.
Love is one kind of abstraction. And then there are those nights when I sleep alone, when I curl into a pillow that isn't you, when I hear the tiptoe sounds that aren't yours. It's not as if I can conjure you up completely. I must embrace the idea of you instead. — David Levithan

I didn't know a living person could hurt you so badly.
When the pain originates with someone who is gone, it's your own memory that hurts you. Walking through the house, touching things they've touched, hearing sounds they heard, wondering what they would've thought of one thing or another. This is pain that I know, pain that I can handle, pain that is so much a part of me that if it were removed I would not be whole.
But when it's someone who's alive who hurts you, the pain can't be escaped. The things they've touched are still warm because they were just there, the sounds they hear reach your ears too - sometimes their own voice, and it's excruciating to bear. I know what he thinks about this, that, or the other because I can hear him saying so. But not to me. He doesn't talk to me anymore. — Mindy McGinnis

Giving someone the benefit of the doubt is not so simple as it sounds. What it means, in fact, is being charitable--which, as the vicar is fond of pointing out, is the most difficult of the graces to master. Faith and hope are a piece of cake but charity is a Pandora's box: the monster in the cistern which, when the lid is opened, comes swarming out to seize you by the throat. — Alan Bradley

I love to work. I know that sounds ridiculous to say because all people love to work, but I love the homework that goes into acting. I love figuring out different ways of playing a scene. I love the energy of being on set. I love not getting enough sleep because I have to wake up early in the morning. — Amanda Schull

If someone talks about union, fidelity, a monogamous relationship, love, blessing; I would say it sounds like marriage to me. And blessing, you see, I think is undermining our sacrament of marriage. — George Carey

Somewhere today in time, I died. Conscious of a love cruelly wronged, almost hearing the silent calls beaming from eternity, hearing the sounds of the sea waves breaking at my feet - beckoning me, and it is in those cries, deep inside my fated soul, deep in another life which brings me the allure of: destiny. — J.L. Holtz

I love food: biscuits and gravy, cheese grits, spaghetti and meatballs, chicken-fried steak with white gravy ... but my favorite dish is my wife's beanie weenie cornbread casserole. It's so good. It sounds stupid, but if you eat it, it's heaven. Of course, it's only something you can eat if you've got a lot of money. — Larry The Cable Guy

I squint my eyes and glare at him.
"I don't have a crush on Quinn anymore."
He raises a golden eyebrow.
"No?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Why is that?"
I stare at him long and hard, trying to decide what to say. Should I be downright, painfully honest? I've always found that the best way to be, so I nod.
"Two words."
He waits.
"Dante. Giliberti."
I hear him suck in his breath and I smile. Sometimes, honesty is refreshing and so very worth it.
"Me?" He sounds so surprised, as though he doesn't know that he is practically a living breathing Adonis. I nod.
"You."
He studies me again and I fight the need to fidget as I wait for his reaction.
After a minute of nerve-wracking silence, he finally answers.
"So, will you keep the bracelet?"
I nod.
"Can I kiss you again?"
I nod.
So he does. — Courtney Cole

It just started raining here in the Philippines. I love the sound of rain on a tin roof. It sounds so majestic. — Stanley Victor Paskavich

Day's heart clenched. God didn't want to just fuck him; he wanted to make love to him. Damn, it'd felt like ages since Day had done that. Not since college if he were being honest with himself. He'd loved his college sweetheart, but they'd never actually got to the lovemaking part, since his college sweetheart was straight. But now he'd have the chance. Day reclined, letting the soft soprano sounds of the saxophone add to his euphoria. He — A.E. Via

Up in the distance the whistle of the wind sang to her from the mountain. From Lucian's mountain. It beckoned and taunted and she wanted to run towards it. To be enveloped in its coat of fleece and to hear its safe sounds. — Melina Marchetta

Love is sacred. Beauty is sacred. Flowers are sacred. Birds are sacred. And sacredness brings the perfume of love and compassion. Therefore love and compassion is the perfume of sacredness. It sounds rather poetic, but ... God IS poetry. — Vasant Lad

The call of love sounds very hollow among these immobile rocks. — Gustav Mahler

We kiss for a long time, a good long time. I don't even notice that it's cold and I forget to be afraid because that's just how good a kisser he is. His lips move above my lips. My lips ache for the touch of him, the softness of his skin. We keep kissing. My hands wrap themselves in his hair. His hand presses me close into him, as close as I can be against him, and he is solid, strong, amazing. My hands leave his hair and journey down to the sides of his face, still tingling.
"We should keep going," he says, voice gruff and husky again. I love when his voice sounds like that, deeper than normal. His lips puff out a little more, too. "You're blushing."
I pull my lips in against each other like I'm still trying to taste him. I move my snowshoes off of his snowshoes. It's tricky.
"You're a good kisser," I say.
"So are you. — Carrie Jones

I don't think there's anything wrong with the way you are," I said shyly. "I just don't want to mess up, and you're much better at this sort of thing than I am."
"Don't worry. You'll enjoy playing along. You'll have to be haughty, and I'll have to act beaten down, when we're in public."
"That sounds kind of fun." I said.
"Just don't forget that it's a ruse, love," he said. "Because once we're outside the walls again, you'll be entirely in my power. And I'd hate to have to spank you. — Delilah S. Dawson

Finn looped an arm around Callie's waist and waited.
"Are we in big trouble?"
Verdie nodded seriously. "Yes, you are. First thing is, this ain't my place nomore and it ain't my business to fuss at ya'll, but I love that kid and I can't stand to see him cry. My dad gave me a bit of advice when our boys were little that I'm about to give ya'll. You're going to argue, but it's your argument, not his. Don't let him see it and don't go to bed angry with each other. We got enough of a feud goin' on all around us. We don't need one inside the walls of the house. Now let's go have some cookies." Finn gave Callie a gentle squeeze, "Sounds like good advice to me. — Carolyn Brown

After we became a couple, she composed our time together. She planned days as if they were artistic events. One afternoon we went to Tybee Island for a picnic; we ate blueberries and drank champagne tinted with curacao and listened to Miles Davis, and when I asked the name of her perfume, she said it was L'Heure Bleue.
She talked about 'perfect moments.' One such moment happened that afternoon; she'd been napping; I lay next to her, reading. She said, 'I'll always remember the sounds of the sea and of pages turning, and the smell of L'Heure Bleue. For me they signify love. — Susan Hubbard

I love the idea of documentaries. I love seeing documentaries, and I love making them. Documentaries are incredibly easy to shoot. The ease with which you can hear something's going on, somebody's going to be somewhere: That sounds so interesting. Pick up your camera and go. — Jonathan Demme

Let no one persuade you of a single thing. Study your hunger and how to feed it. Trust in whatever sounds twist your viscera. Write in the cadences of first love, of second chances, of air raids, of outrage, of the hideous and the hilarious, of headlong acceptance or curt refusal. Make the bitter music of bumdom, the sad shanties of landlessness, cool at the equator and fluid at the pole. Set the sounds that angels make after an all-night orgy. Whatever lengthens the day, whatever gets you through the night. Make the music that you need, for need will be over, soon enough. Let your progressions predict time's end and recollect the dead as if they're all still her. Because they are. — Richard Powers

That's what I don't like about college, by the way. It's like a lot of people don't believe these years really count, so you're allowed to experiment with ... whatever. There's such a casual view about things like sex and drinking and even drugs. I know that sounds really old-fashioned, but I just don't get it ... to be honest, I'm kind of disappointed in those two people I heard about, and I don't want to sit there trying to pretend that I'm not. I know I shouldn't judge, ... but still, what was the point? Shouldn't you save things like that for someone you love? So that it really means something? - Savannah — Nicholas Sparks

It sounds like love just sort of happens, whether you want it to or not, whether you're married or not. — Corey Ann Haydu

So quiet ... it's like ... all the sounds in the world ... have been stopped ... only you scent ... in the deepest part of my heart ... echoing ... — Yuu Watase

We speak of love when we destroy nature.
It sounds like innocence of cruel arrogance. — Toba Beta

I don't want to be afraid of bright colors, or new sounds, or big love, or risky decisions, or strange experiences, or weird endeavors, or sudden changes, or even failure. — Elizabeth Gilbert

I told Seven the Bartender that true love is felonious.

"Not if they're over eighteen," he said, shutting the till of the cash register.

By then the bar itself had become an appendage, a second torso holding up my first. "You take someone's breath away," I stressed. "You rob them of the ability to utter a single word." I tipped the neck of the empty liquor bottle toward him. "You steal a heart."

He wiped up in front of me with a dishrag. "Any judge would toss that case out on its ass."

"You'd be surprised."

Seven spread the rag out on the brass bar to dry. "Sounds like a misdemeanor, if you ask me."

I rested my cheek on the cool, damp wood. "No way," I said. "Once you're in, it's for life. — Jodi Picoult

With the words, a lot of things start with questions. Some word kind of piques my interest, and I love the way it sounds, but I really don't know what it means. And I honestly don't care for a while. — Andrew Bird

He was dimly angry with himself, he did not know why. It was that he had struck his wife. He had forgotten it, but was miserable about it, notwithstanding. And this misery was the voice of the great Love that had made him and his wife and the baby and Diamond, speaking in his heart, and telling him to be good. For that great Love speaks in the most wretched and dirty hearts; only the tone of its voice depends on the echoes of the place in which it sounds. On Mount Sinai, it was thunder; in the cabman's heart it was misery; in the soul of St John it was perfect blessedness. — George MacDonald

I love this time of day,' Josh says-talking to me, he's talking to me!-and I try to think of the right thing to say.
'I love you' sounds a little intense for the conversation.
'Can we make out?' sounds like something Jackson would say, and even if I am thinking it, I never want to sound like Jackson. Ever.
'Me too,' is what I come up with.
Brilliant, right? — Elizabeth Scott

I can't promise to love someone for ever. I can't imagine anyone could promise to love me for ever. I mean, it sounds like a lovely day, but I go to red carpet events all the time and I'm the centre of attention so it's not like I'm looking for that! — Kelly Brook

A new moon lay on its back, and stars were out. Here, away from lights and sounds of town or village, the night was deep, the black sky stretching, fathomless, away among the spheres to some unimaginable world where gods walked, and suns and moons showered down like petals falling. Some power there is that draws men's eyes and hearts up and outward, beyond the heavy clay that fastens them to earth. Music can take them, and the moon's light, and, I suppose, love, though I had not known it then, except in worship. — Mary Stewart

Four years ago the clocks started turning back. I open my eyes and see nothing. I feel nothing below or above me. I feel the absence of things. The absence of my flesh, my bones, my body, my mind. All that is left is awareness. I see nothing but the absence of colour. It's not a black darkness. It's simply nothing. The interior of a black hole. I recall news of a black hole lingering along the edges of our solar system. All that time ago. Four years ago. When the clocks started turning back. I hear nothing. Until there is a something. A small thing. A voice. I listen. There are more voices. The sounds are human. How long has it been since I've heard a human? The sounds scratch along my now present attention. They carve into my hearing. They are horrid, wretched things. Voices screaming. Growing loud and desperate. How many voices? Billions. This is the birth of our species. We are born screaming. It's all we know to do. We have screamed for eternity. Within this empty space. — F.K. Preston

All the way out I listen to the car AM radio, bad lyrics of trailer park love, gin and tonic love, strobe light love, lost and found love, lost and found and lost love, lost and lost and lost love - some people were having no luck at all. The DJ sounds quick and smooth and after-shaved, the rest of the world a mess by comparison. — Lorrie Moore

In an instant, everything in the room came alive. Like the sunshine had a melody and the sounds of footsteps had a texture I could feel in my fingertips each time anyone moved — Kiera Cass

But our love isn't easy because it's not meant to be. It requires
work and sacrifice and protection. And I wouldn't want it any other way, not right now, with the morning sun making the curtains glow and Her arms around my neck and the sounds of the street so far away. I'm in it for the long haul, I'm not going away. — Pete Wentz

A spring evening. The air punctuated with scattered sounds. The voices of children playing in the streets coming from varying distances as if to show that the whole expanse is alive. And this vast expanse is Russia, his incomparable mother; famed far and wide, martyred, stubborn, extravagant, crazy, irresponsible, adored, Russia with her eternally splendid, and disastrous, and unpredictable adventures. Oh, how sweet to be alive! How good to be alive and to love life! Oh, the ever-present longing to thank life, thank existence itself, to thank them as one being to another being. — Boris Pasternak

Your house sounds like a train at midday,
the wasps buzz, the saucepans sing,
the waterfall enumerates the deeds of the dew ... — Pablo Neruda

But what do I love when I love you? Not the beauty of any body or the rhythm of time in its movement; not the radiance of light, so dear to our eyes; not the sweet melodies in the world of manifold sounds; not the perfume of flowers, ointments and spices; not manna and not honey; not the limbs so delightful to the body's embrace: it is none of these things that I love when I love my God. And yet when I love my God I do indeed love a light and a sound and a perfume and a food and an embrace - a light and sound and perfume and food and embrace in my inward self. There my soul is flooded with a radiance which no space can contain; there a music sounds which time never bears away; there I smell a perfume which no wind disperses; there I taste a food that no surfeit embitters; there is an embrace which no satiety severs. It is this that I love when I love my God. (Confessions 10.6.8) — Timothy J. Keller

The thing about me loving Harry is I'm twelve and he's maybe thirty or thirty-five, whatever, so he'll have to wait like six years for me to grow up. I mean if he kills Hiskott and sets us free, he'll have to wait. He'll never do that. As kind and sweet and brave as he is, he probably has a girl already a hundred others chasing after him. So what I'll have to do is always love him from afar. Unrequited love. That's what they generally call it. I'll love him forever in a deeply, deeply sad kind of way, which maybe you think sounds pretty depressing, but it isn't. Being obsessed about a deeply sad unrequited love can take your mind off the worse things, of which there are thousands, and sometimes it's better to dwell endlessly on what you can't have than on what might happen to you at any moment in Harmony corner. — Dean Koontz

In a language known to us, we have substituted the opacity of the sounds with the transparence of the ideas. But a language we donot know is a closed place in which the one we love can deceive us, making us, locked outside and convulsed in our impotence, incapable of seeing or preventing anything. — Marcel Proust

One of the billions of things I love about Beyonce: The harder she tries to come on crazy, the less crazy she sounds. — Rob Sheffield

I know this sounds like quite a pile. I know, too, that some of you will wonder why I don't just buy a Kindle. I see your point, but the trouble is that to do so would be to forgo the pleasure of the moment when, years in the future, sand falls from the pages of an old book, and you suddenly remember the Isle of Wight and A Passage to India, a Greek island and The Map of Love, or whatever. For me, a ghostly trace of Ambre Solaire rising from the pages of a sun-bleached paperback is a way back to the past: to favourite stories as much as to favourite beaches. — Rachel Cooke

Has it got any sports in it?" "Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Poison. True love. Hate. Revenge. Giants. Hunters. Bad men. Good men. Beautifulest ladies. Snakes. Spiders. Beasts of all natures and descriptions. Pain. Death. Brave men. Coward men. Strongest men. Chases. Escapes. Lies. Truths. Passion. Miracles." "Sounds okay," I said, and I kind of closed my eyes. "I'll do my best to stay awake . . . but I'm awful sleepy, Daddy . . . ." Who can know when his world — William Goldman

I live in Topanga Canyon, which is like a faux-rustic enclave in Los Angeles. I love the sounds of all the critters outside - the frogs, owls, crickets, and birds. Some of the birds around here are pretty accomplished musicians. You can learn a lot from them. — Cliff Martinez

I'm not one of those people who wakes up and thinks, 'Bring on the day!' I have to have about 7 pints of coffee before I'm even remotely awake. But I love the golden hour in the evening, as hokey as that sounds. Just as the sun is about to set and you get those lovely shadows and everything looks gold and yellow. — Stacy London

I love the sound of '70s glam records. I love that snare sound. The recordings I like, it's all based on if the snare sounds good. The drums have to sound great. — King Tuff

The longer I have lived with this new hope, the clearer it has become to me: our true hope in life doesn't spring from the feelings of our youth, lovely and fair though they are. Nor does it emerge from the objective possibilities of history, unlimited though they may be. Our true hope in life is wakened and sustained and finally fulfilled by the great divine mystery which is above us and in us and round about us, nearer to us than we can be to ourselves. It encounters us as the great promise of our life and this world: nothing will be in vain. It will succeed. In the end all will be well! It meets us too in the call to life: 'I live and you shall live also.' We are called to this hope, and the call often sounds like a command - a command to resist death and the powers of death, and a command to love life and cherish it: every life, the life we share, the whole of life. — Jurgen Moltmann

They come from Mobile. Aiken. From Newport News. From Marietta. From Meridian. And the sounds of these places in their mouths make you think of love. When you ask them where they are from, they tilt their heads and say "Mobile" and you think you've been kissed. They say "Aiken" and you see a white butterfly glance off a fence with a torn wing. They say "Nagadoches" and you want to say "Yes, I will." You don't know what these towns are like, but you love what happens to the air when they open their lips and let the names ease out. — Toni Morrison

Evie narrowed her eyes. "A time limit. Four weeks of the swooniest, swellest romance New York City has ever seen. And then, kaput. Over and out. Off the air."
"Golly, when you say it like that, it sounds as if our love's not real, Lamb Chop. — Libba Bray