Voice Note Quotes & Sayings

So how many tattoos do you have exactly?" she asked as Travis met her at the front of her car. It was a question she'd been dying to ask but she couldn't believe she'd just blurted it out all of a sudden. What was it about this man that made her so nervous that she spoke before she thought?
He'd been blowing on the top of the travel mug that she'd let him use, but he stopped and faced her, his eyes darkening. "I'll let you find out on your own." There was a sensual note in his voice that she felt all the way to her toes. — Katie Reus

The woman raised her voice. "I said, what are you doing?"
Tommy kept typing and looked up. "Pardon me, I was ignoring you. What did you say?"
"What are you doing?" She repeated.
"It's a note. Let me read it for you. 'Couldn't anyone else see that they were all slaves of Satan? I had to cleanse the world of their evil. I am the hand of God. Why else would security have let me into the building with an assault rifle in my suitcase? I am a divine instrument.' " Tommy paused and looked up. "That's all I have so far, but I'll guess I end it with an apology to my mom. What do you think?"
She smiled as if hiding gas pains and handed him an envelope. — Christopher Moore

A sat note crept into his voice. "But something's missing now from political discourse."

"What?"

"Caring about others," he said. — Ellen Levine

After a long moment, Cadan said, "What - what is it for?" His voice cracked as he spoke, and Stewart threw him an irritated look.
Lin made a little noise that would have sounded like a laugh if there had been any real mirth in it. "They didn't tell us THAT."
"And it-" Cadan swallowed, then continued.
"Lissa said it hurts?"
"Hurts?" Lin let her hair slide back over her neck, raised her head to look at him. "Yes, it hurts." Once again there was a sound like laughter in her voice, but with a note to it that made Elissa go cold.
-Linked, pp 265 — Imogen Howson

Snakes dislike surprises,' Rupert said. To Mrs. Pembroke he added, 'You frightened her. She attacked because she thought she was in danger.'
'Oh, you had time to discern that it was a female?' she said, her voice higher than usual.
'Might have been,' he said. 'She was pretty enough. Did you note the markings? — Loretta Chase

Time is helpless, he thought to himself, helpless in the face of our feelings. Nine years have passed, and not a note in her voice is different, not a nerve in my body hears her in any other way. Nothing is lost, nothing is past and over, her presence is as much of a tender delight now as it was then. — Stefan Zweig

pay attention to that little voice inside your head that sends you prompts, insights, and hunches. Note things that you don't understand, and rather than shying away from them, turn them into questions to pursue. — Todd Henry

There is a note that comes into the human voice by which you may know real weariness. It comes when one has been trying with all his heart and soul to think his way along some difficult road of thought. Of a sudden he finds himself unable to go on. Something within him stops. A tiny explosion takes place. He bursts into words and talks, perhaps foolishly. Little side currents of his nature he didn't know were there run out and get themselves expressed. It is at such times that a man boasts, uses big words, makes a fool of himself in general. — Sherwood Anderson

Wylan didn't think he imagined the tension in the rasp of Kaz's voice. Kaz never yelled the way Wylan's father did, but Wylan had learned to listen for that low note, that bit of black harmony that crept into Kaz's tone when things were about to get dangerous. — Leigh Bardugo

What is it?" pressed the older man, a note of concern in his voice. Tom scrubbed a hand over his face, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Tired of jerkin' off," he finally muttered. He risked a glance at Baltsaros and hunched his shoulders in embarrassment and annoyance at the man's grin. "Feeling neglected?" asked Baltsaros, laughing. — Bey Deckard

Radio, or at least the kind of radio we're proposing to do, can cut through that. It can reach people who would otherwise never hear your work, and of course I find that very notion inspiring. Radio stories are powerful because the human voice is powerful. It has been and will continue to be the most basic element of storytelling. As a novelist (and I should note that working my novel is the first thing I do in the morning and the very last thing I do before I sleep), shifting into this new medium is entirely logical. It's still narrative, only with different tools. — Daniel Alarcon

It seems that we have to be married," he says, a harder note coming into his voice. "I am honored by the interest that Parliament takes in the matter. Your family still has many friends, it seems. Even among those who profess to be my friends. I understand from them that you are insisting on the wedding. I'm flattered, thank you for the attention. As we both know, we have been betrothed for two long years. So now we are going to consummate our betrothal. — Philippa Gregory

This is the swamp as I see it, but what I can't capture on canvas is you as I see you. No brush or paint will ever show the hero that you are. It will never be able to portray the sound of your voice when you whisper my name. The way my skin tingles when you touch me. The passion of you inside me. I love you, Talon. I know that I can't keep you. No one can ever tame a wild beast. You have a job to do and so do I. I only hope that when you think of me, it'll bring a smile to your face. Love always, Sunshine. (Sunshine's note) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Look there." Regina pointed toward the northern sky. "Polaris."
Viktor looked up. "The constant north star, one of man's most dependable guides."
"Polaris will be waiting for us there when we are old and have experienced a lifetime of joys and regrets," Regina said, a wistful note in her voice. "That fact makes me feel like one of God's most insignificant creatures. — Patricia Grasso

I confess, as much as I enjoy you in breeches, you hold up that gown rather well."
She studied him through the eyeholes. "You truly have stopped trying to be charming."
"You're the most ravishing creature in the world, sweet Rue, even when hidden behind feathers and beads. How was that?"
"Adequate, if insincere."
"Then you mistake me." He took up her free hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips, gold to gold, sending a flash of sudden, sensual warmth stealing up her arm. His voice dropped to a huskier note. "I am utterly sincere."
-Kit & Rue — Shana Abe

As we reached the turning of the hall, Randall spoke behind us. "Jamie," he said. The voice was hoarse with shock, and held a note halfway between disbelief and pleading. Jamie stopped then, and turned to look at him. Randall's face was a ghastly white, with a small red patch livid on each cheekbone. He had taken off his wig, clenched in his hands, and sweat pasted the fine dark hair to his temples. "No." The voice that spoke above me was soft, almost expressionless. Looking up, I could see that the face still matched it, but a quick, hot pulse beat in his neck, and the small, triangular scar above his collar flushed red with heat. "I am called Lord Broch Tuarach for formality's sake," the soft Scottish voice above me said. "And beyond the requirements of formality, you will never speak to me again - until you beg for your life at the point of my sword. Then, you may use my name, for it will be the last word you ever speak. — Diana Gabaldon

Sometimes you have to listen to a CD over and over before you really get it, but as soon as I heard the first note of R&B artist Chrisette Michele's debut CD, I was blown away. Her voice is playful but pretty, light but strong - the woman's got soul. — Gayle King

Sometimes I can't sleep 'cause I can't get a melody or a beat out my head, so I just have to wake up and, like, record it on a voice note. — ASAP Ferg

With the Wit, one is aware of all the life that surrounds one. It was not just the warmth of the mare nearby that I sensed. I knew the scintillant forms of the myriad insects that populated the grasses, and felt even the shadowy life force of the great oak that lifted its limbs between the moon and me. Just up the hillside, a rabbit crouched motionless in the summer grasses. I felt its indistinct presence, not as a piece of life located in a certain place, but as one sometimes hears a single voice's note within a market's roar. But above all, I felt a physical kinship with all that lived in the world. I had a right to be here. I was as much a part of this summer night as the insects or the water purling past my feet. I think that old magic draws much of its strength from that acknowledgment: that we are a part of that world, no more, but certainly no less than the rabbit."
p. 129 — Robin Hobb

To sing is to praise God and the daffodils, and to praise God is to thank Him, in every note within my small range, and every color in the tones of my voice, with every look into the eyes of my audience, to thank Him. Thank you, God, for letting me be born, for giving me eyes to see the daffodils lean in the wind, all my brothers, all my sisters, for giving me ears to hear crying, legs to come running, hands to smooth damp hair, a voice to laugh with and to sing with ... to sing to you and the daffodils ... — Joan Baez

And while he waited in the castle court,
The voice of Enid, Yniol's daughter, rang
Clear through the open casement of the hall,
Singing; and as the sweet voice of a bird,
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle,
Moves him to think what kind of bird it is
That sings so delicately clear, and make
Conjecture of the plumage and the form;
So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint;
And made him like a man abroad at morn
When first the liquid note beloved of men
Comes flying over many a windy wave
To Britain, and in April suddenly
Breaks from a coppice gemmed with green and red,
And he suspends his converse with a friend,
Or it may be the labour of his hands,
To think or say, 'There is the nightingale;'
So fared it with Geraint, who thought and said,
'Here, by God's grace, is the one voice for me. — Alfred Tennyson

Bryn looked from Halt to Horace and back again. He saw no pity in either face.
"I don't want to," he said in a very small voice. Horace found it hard to reconcile this cringing figure with the sneering bully who had been making his life hell for the past few months. Halt appeared to consider Bryn's statement.
"We'll note your protest," he said cheerfully. "Now continue, please. — John Flanagan

Little Sister Rose-Marie,
Will thy feet as willing-light
Run through Paradise, I wonder,
As they run the blue skies under,
Willing feet, so airy-light?
Little Sister Rose-Marie
Will thy voice as bird-note clear
Lift and ripple over Heaven
As its mortal sound is given,
Swift bird-voice, so young and clear?
How God will be glad of thee,
Little Sister Rose-Marie! — Adelaide Crapsey

Once you strike a note on the organ, it's going to stay with you until you either make it louder or softer or let it go. So it's a little bit like the human voice, so you can put a human characteristic in it. — Booker T. Jones

Her voice was husky, vibrating, slightly flat, coming in just under each note like a saucer under a cup. — Lorrie Moore

To me it's no accident that all the symphony orchestras around the world tune up to the note A. And A is 440 cycles, except in Germany where it's 444. But the universe is 450 cycles. So what I'm trying to say is, I think it's God's voice, melody especially. Counterpoint, retrograde inversion, harmony ... that's the science and the craft. — Quincy Jones

Thank you." Lib tried to think of some more conversational note to end on. "It's always intrigued me," she said, letting her voice rise, "why you Sisters of Mercy are called walking nuns." "We walk out into the world, you see, Mrs. Wright. We take the usual vows of any order - poverty, chastity, obedience - but also a fourth, service." Lib had never heard the nun say so much before. "What kind of service?" Anna broke in: "To the sick, the poor, and the ignorant." "Well remembered, child," said the nun. "We vow to be of use." As — Emma Donoghue

With the a cappella groups, every voice is like one string on a guitar, one note on the piano, or one cymbal, and you don't have the luxury of falling back on anything. — Ben Folds

Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
I lie in bed beside my little sister, listening to the singing in the yard. Life is transformed, by these voices, by these presences, by their high spirits and grand esteem, for themselves and each other. My parents, all of us, are on holiday. The mixture of voices and words is so complicated and varied it seems that such confusion, such jolly rivalry, will go on forever, and then to my surprise - for I am surprised, even though I know the pattern of rounds - the song is thinning out, you can hear the two voices striving.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Then the one voice alone, one of them singing on, gamely, to the finish. One voice in which there is an unexpected note of entreaty, of warning, as it hangs the five separate words on the air. Life is. Wait. But a. Now, wait. Dream. — Alice Munro

In crowds we have unison, in groups harmony. We want the single voice but not the single note; that is the secret of the group. — Mary Parker Follett

Each new year is a surprise to us. We find that we had virtually forgotten the note of each bird, and when we hear it again, it is remembered like a dream, reminding us of a previous state of existence. How happens it that the associations it awakens are always pleasing, never saddening, reminiscences of our sanest hours. The voice of nature is always encouraging. — Henry David Thoreau

Singing harmony is not the same as singing a part in a choral group, where you know you're going to have to hit this note and then that note. There are nuances that change every day. Maybe today you have a slight cold or voice fatigue, or you've done something and there's a slight difference in your breathing. — Phil Everly

I was going to punch the shit out him," he told me. I could feel his voice vibrating against my skin. "Luke. I didn't though. You know why?"
I'd wondered about that.
"You asked me not to. Last summer. Remember? You gave me that note. 'Stop punching people.' It's the only thing you've ever asked me to do. I can do that much for you. I think I'd do anything for you. — Rose Christo

Shea took her time braiding her hair, fussing over her blue jeans, adjusting her ribbed cotton shirt, allowing her mind time to cope with the new knowledge. It was frightening yet fascinating. She wished she had observed it in someone other than herself. It was hard to accept it clinically when it was her own body she was studying.
Such a nice body.
She nearly dropped her brush. Will you stop! Just the low velvet touch of his voice sent heat curling through her body. It was sinful and unfair to have such a voice.
I did not think you would ever speak with me as a lifemate would. I waited long for that impatient comment. There was a teasing note now. — Christine Feehan

For an immature little preppy guy, you're pretty smart."
"An immature little preppy guy?" he repeated in an outraged tone of voice.
"You look like someone who would need a note from his mother to get out of gym class," I said.
"Life is full of surprises," he admitted.
"When you see the heat I'm packing, all this talk about imatture and little will go straight out of the window."
"Is that a promise?"
"You'll be crying for your mama. — Nick Wilgus

I loved this woman the way you love ... well, nothing," he said, a note of suprise in his voice. "You can't compare that kind of love to anything, can you? It's its own unique gift. — Dennis Lehane

Echo and Shadow

A room
and a room. And between them

she leans in the doorway
to say something,

lintel bright above her face,
threshold dark beneath her feet,

her hands behind her head gathering
her hair to tie and tuck at the nape.

A world and a world.

Dying and not dying.
And between them
the curtains blowing
and the shadows they make on her body,

a shadow of birds, a single flock,
a myriad body of wings and cries
turning and diving in complex unison.
Shadow of bells,

or the shadow of the sound
they make in the air, mornings, evenings,
everywhere I wait for her,

as even now her voice
seems a lasting echo
of my heart's calling me home, its story
an ocean beyond my human beginning,

each wave tolling the whole note
of my outcome and belonging. — Li-Young Lee

Miss Taggart," he said, with an odd note of sternness in his voice, "just remember that he represented a code of existence which - for a brief span in all human history - drove slavery out of the civilized world. Remember it, when you feel baffled by the nature of his enemies. — Ayn Rand

The most obvious effect of inverting a chord is to change its bass note, and one result of voice leading through the use of inversions is the creation of melodic bass lines that connect from chord to chord by steps rather than by the wider leaps common when root position voicings alone are used. — Carl Schroeder

I called you because I wanted to hear your voice," I said. "You're learning," Sig observed. "You didn't miss a beat there." "Buy toothpaste." "What?" Sig asked. "Oops, sorry," I said. "I read off the wrong note card." She — Elliott James

With a thick note of disbelief in her voice, Jilly said, 'You went through the wall to California?'
[Dylan] 'Yeah. Why not? Where'd you think we went-Narnia? Oz? Middle Earth? California's weirder than any of those places, anyway.'
Page 246 — Dean Koontz

There are things about how a note sounds on a violin that are really analogous to the human voice - you have a frequency and the air, and then you have a timbre which really is overtones - and making those things work together is one thing. The other thing is mechanical: If you can use your hands and arms to create sound on a fiddle, then learning to sing with it is like adding a third body part. And it's all training. — Bruce Molsky

I recall the scent of some kind of toilet powder - I believe she stole it from her mother's Spanish maid - a sweetish, lowly, musky perfume. It mingled with her own biscuity odor, and my senses were suddenly filled to the brim; a sudden commotion in a nearby bush prevented them from overflowing - and as we drew away from each other, and with aching veins attended to what was probably a prowling cat, there came from the
house her mother's voice calling her, with a rising frantic note - and Dr. Cooper ponderously limped out into the garden. But that mimosa grove - the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her seaside limbs and ardent tongue haunted me ever since - until at last, twenty-four years later, I broke her spell by incarnating her in another. — Vladimir Nabokov

book: Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. "Apparently, Professor Sprout told Professor Moody I'm really good at Herbology," Neville said. There was a faint note of pride in his voice that Harry had rarely heard there before. "He thought I'd like this. — J.K. Rowling

How often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator? — John Milton

Dr. R scratches out a note on his pad.
"Losing you both was only the practice pain, wasn't it? For my mum and dad ... "
He puts his finger on his lips, his elbow at his chest, not racked with cancer. "Yes."
"And when that happens, this will seem like nothing."
He nods.
"When it happens," he asks me, "what will get you through?"
"Friends who love me."
"And if your friends weren't there?"
"Music through headphones."
"And if the music stopped?"
"A sermon by Rabbi Wolpe."
"If there was no religion?"
"The mountains and the sky."
"If you leave California?"
"Numbered streets to keep me walking."
"If New York falls into the ocean?"
Your voice in my head. — Emma Forrest

But there's nothing up there but the wounded!" I say. "Katniss" I hear the warning note in Haymitch's voice and know what's coming. Don't you even think about-!" I yank the earpiece free and let it hang from its wire. — Suzanne Collins

How is that light still on, Talbot?" BT asked in hushed tones with a note of reverence in his voice. "There's a machine with Kit-Kats in there, do you have any change, Mr. T?" Tommy asked hopefully. It's amazing to me that all of us had known Tommy long enough that nobody even looked halfway cross-eyed at him at his pronouncement. If Tommy had said that a convention of clowns respite with balloon animals was in there singing Billy Joel songs, we would all have believed him. Of course I wouldn't have gone in, clowns are evil, but I still would have believed him. — Mark Tufo

I made it when I was young, by my standards, after years of playing on various harps. I shaped its pieces out of Ymris oak beside night fires in far, lonely places where I heard no man's voice but my own. I carved on each piece the shapes of leaves, flowers, birds I saw in my wanderings. In An, I searched three months for strings for it. I found them finally; sold my horse for them. They were strung to the broken harp of Ustin of Aum, who died of sorrow over the conquering of Aum. Its strings were tuned to his sorrow, and its wood was split like his heart. I strung my harp with them, matching note for note in the restringing. And then I returned them to my joy." Morgon — Patricia A. McKillip

Wait for me."
If his voice was just a bit hoarse, she didn't seem to take note of it. She looked at him as though he had reached over and slapped her. "You don't trust me? After all that talk of taking me for my word - "
"This isn't about trust."
"That is precisely what this is about." Her fingers fisted in her skirts. "Because I've trusted you."
It hurt him to hear it. He didn't know what else to do. He had no contacts left. He was walking around now like a blind man. He didn't need the added weight of her safety on his conscience.
Caine's eyes fell away again. "Maybe you shouldn't."
That earned him a flustered: "You told me to! — V.S. Carnes

His voice sounded the same, now so familiar that I could follow the beat in my head, predicting each change of tone, each note of accentuation. — Kelley Armstrong

That was the coolest thing ever." Eena smiled at the fact that she'd been lucky enough to touch the wings of a real crioness.
"That was highly unusual. I can't believe they came right up to us - to you."
"They were hungry, I'm sure."
"Still, crioness are cautious. They always avoid people. To let you touch him like it did ... .."
She grinned with pure satisfaction. "Wild huh? Derian's not going to believe me when I tell him." Eena cocked her head when Ian laughed out loud. "What?" she asked, a note of offense in her voice.
"Of course Derian will believe you. When does anything ever happen to you that isn't unreal?"
Knowing he was right, she shoved him off the log anyway. — Richelle E. Goodrich

I used to audition for musicals when I was in New York before I moved to L.A., but I couldn't quite hit a certain note, so I saw a teacher in L. A. who helped me get better at it. She showed me how to use a different part of my voice. You are never too old. — Missi Pyle

I can't hear God's voice for my kids, but I can watch and listen and pray and adjust and try not to screw up whatever He has planned for their lives. And although I can't make them listen to God, or even want to, I can plant enough seeds to swing the world in their favor. That said, as I navigate my day surrounded by the parents of gifted children (did you notice there aren't any average kids anymore - only Gifted and Disposable), here's where I get confused: if a person believes in gifts but not in God, then where - as they stand in daily admiration of their child's emergent uniqueness, their heart swelling with pride and joy and, yes, gratitude - where, then, do they send the thank-you note? — Heather Choate Davis

Would you like to?" he says. His voice is hardly audible above the wind
so low it's barely a whisper.
"Would I like to what?" My heart is roaring, rushing in my ears, and though
there are still several inches between his hand and mine, there's a zipping,
humming energy that connects us, and from the heat flooding my body you
would think we were pressed together, palm to palm, face to face.
"Dance," he says, at the same time closing those last few inches and finding
my hand and pulling me closer, and at that second the song hits a high note and I
confuse the two impressions, of his hand and the soaring, the lifting of the music.
We dance. — Lauren Oliver

Sing, then. Sing, indeed, with shoulders back, and head up so that song might go to the roof and beyond to the sky. Mass on mass of tone, with a hard edge, and rich with quality, every single note a carpet of colour woven from basso profundo, and basso, and baritone, and alto, and tenor, and soprano, and also mezzo, and contralto, singing and singing, until life and all things living are become a song.
O, Voice of Man, organ of most lovely might. — Richard Llewellyn

Aren't you scared?" I asked. She had a way about her that made you question existence.
"I am strong," she answered. Her voice grew with every word. "I am fiercely beautiful," she continued. Her face lit up with every utterance. "And I am not afraid," she whispered. I swear she rose a thousand feet with every note.
To this day I've never seen anything like the girl. She made breathing hurt. She swore she'd change it all. And now? Look at her. She's defying gravity. — C.R. Beck

Don't touch her, he growled.
There was a note in his voice that would of scared me if it had been directed toward me. He shoved me behind him, putting his body protectively in front of mine with my back to the table. Guardians came at us from all directions,and Dimitri began dispatching them with the same deadly grace that had once made people call him a god. — Richelle Mead

I'm sure it's not what it looks like." Sophie's meek voice held a note of pity.
Brooke's, on the other hand, was laced with anger. "What the heck is he thinking?"
"There must be a reasonable explanation for his actions."
"Ugh. Could that dress be any shorter?"
"She's probably just a friend."
"You're way prettier than her, Dawn." "Maybe she's his cousin?" Sophie asked hopefully.
Brooke snorted. "Yeah, if you mean kissing cousin. — Ada Adams

Someone had to insert a note of peevishness into this hellishly halcyon Keep Calm and Carry On. Generating some reputable resentment, giving voice to the free-floating outrage that imbued their environs like smoke from a burnt dinner - it was a job to do, as Avery's tireless goodwill was a job. With corresponding self-sacrifice, he'd taken on the less glamorous task of reminding the rest that this sucked, it all sucked, it wasn't fair! — Lionel Shriver

His voice is muddy, that's what it is. Dark and brown and muddy. A note to it like coffee left too long on the burner. And unsweetened, bitter chocolate. But there's dirt in it too, deep, dark dirt, like the garden in October. — Jael McHenry

No," Dimitri interrupted gently. He moved his face toward mine, our foreheads nearly touching. "It won't happen to you. You're too strong. You'll fight it, just like you did this
time."
"I only did because you were here." He wrapped his arms around me, and I buried my face in his chest. "I can't do it by myself," I whispered.
"You can," he said. There was a tremulous note in his voice. "You're strong - you're so, so strong. It's why I love you. — Richelle Mead

Though Sebastian wasn't looking at her, he could hear the note of childish defiance in her voice, and it caused a wrench in his heart... a heart that he always believed to be nothing more than an efficient muscle. — Lisa Kleypas

And I decided that there might be things I would never understand, no matter how hard I tried. Though try I would.

And that there would be people who would never hear my one small voice, no matter what I had to say.

But then a better thought occurred, and this was the one I carried away with me that day: If my life was to be just a single note in an endless symphony, how could I not sound it out for as long and as loudly as I could? (p228) — Lauren Wolk

When Rosencrantz asks Hamlet, "Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your grief to your friends"(III, ii, 844-846), Hamlet responds, "Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me." (III,ii, 371-380) — William Shakespeare

Each soul has its own note to sing in the divine chorus and no voice is more important than another. (94) — Prem Prakash

That requires as much power as a small radio transmitter
and rather similar skills to operate. For it's the application of the power, not its amount, that matters. How long do you think Hitler's career as a dictator of Germany would have lasted, if wherever he went a voice was talking quietly in his ear? Or if a steady musical note, loud enough to drown all other sounds and to prevent sleep, filled his brain night and day? Nothing brutal, you appreciate. Yet, in the final analysis, just as irresistible as a tritium bomb. — Arthur C. Clarke

If you pledge yourself to the Inquisition, to me, and swear to use your powers and your knowledge to send malfettos back to the Underworld, I will give you everything you've ever wanted. I can grant your every desire. Money? Power? Respect? Done." He smiles. "You can redeem yourself, change from an abomination in the gods' eyes to a savior. You can help me fix this world. Wouldn't it be nice, not having to run anymore?" He pauses, and for a moment, a note of real, painful tragedy enters his voice. "We are not supposed to exist, Adelina. We were never meant to be." We are mistakes. — Marie Lu

You got it engrained in your memory?" she said, but I heard the teasing note in her voice. — Jenika Snow

I will sit here but an hour or two, then leave."
I yawn. "So very long as that?"
When he answers, there is a wry note in his voice. "I do have my reputation to protect. — R.L. LaFevers

The Death Eaters were waiting for us," Harry told her. "We were surrounded the moment we took off - they knew it was tonight - I don't know what happened to anyone else, four of them chased us, it was all we could do to get away, and then Voldemort caught up with us - "
He could hear the self-justifying note in his voice, the plea for her to understand why he did not know what had happened to her sons, but
"Thank goodness you're all right," she said, pulling him into a hug he did not feel he deserved.
"Haven't go' any brandy, have yeh, Molly?" asked Hagrid a little shakily. "Fer medicinal purposes?"
She could have summoned it by magic, but as she hurried back toward the crooked house, Harry knew that she wanted to hide her face. — J.K. Rowling

I'm glad you turned cartwheels here."
Samantha heard the note of loneliness in his voice. "You did hear me say back tuck? Because that was my coolest move."
His arm came around her shoulders, and they started across the space again. "Back tuck. Coolest move. Got it. — Erin Kellison

Progressive white teachers seem to say to their black students 'Let me help you find your voice. I promise not to criticize one note as you search for your song'. But the black teachers say 'I've heard your song loud and clear. Now I want to teach you to harmonize with the rest of the world. — Lisa Delpit

confront your greatest fears
voice your biggest problems
acknowledge your tiniest issues
the longer you stay silent
the louder they become
they won't disappear if you ignore them
they will spread and affect all aspects of your life — Connor Franta

Note the significant fact that we always hear of the "fall of man," not the fall of woman, showing that the consensus of human thought has been more unerring than masculine interpretation. Reading this narrative carefully, it is amazing that any set of men ever claimed that the dogma of the inferiority of woman is here set forth. The conduct of Eve from the beginning to the end is so superior to that of Adam. The command not to eat of the fruit of the tree of Knowledge was given to the man alone before woman was formed. Genesis ii, 17. Therefore the injunction was not brought to Eve with the impressive solemnity of a Divine Voice, but whispered to her by her husband and equal. It was a serpent supernaturally endowed, a seraphim as Scott and other commentators have claimed, who talked with Eve, and whose words might reasonably seem superior to the second-hand story of her — Elizabeth Cady Stanton

You have to contort your body in a certain way to hit a low note. When you're on film, you can't. So you do, in a sense, get to hide behind your voice, which is nice. — Will Friedle

I'm not sure anyone's ever experienced enlightenment, been born again, been called to repentance or decided to sell their belongings on account of a system. The voice, the tale, the image, the parable that gets through to you
that wins your heart
religiously is the one that makes it past your defenses. You've been won over, and you probably didn't see it coming. You've been enlisted into a drama, whether positively or negatively, and it shouldn't be controversial to note that it happens all the time. When you really think about it, there's one waiting around every corner. It's as near as the story, song or image you can't get out of your head. Religion happens when we get pulled in, moved, called out or compelled by something outside ourselves. It could be a car commercial, a lyric, a painting, a theatrical performance or the magnetic pull of an Apple store. The calls to worship are everywhere. — David Dark

Compassion is the feeling of sympathy which the pain of one being awakens in another; and the higher and more human the beings are, the more keenly attuned they are to re-echo the note of suffering, which, like a voice from heaven, penetrates the heart, bringing all creatures a proof of their kinship in the universal God. And as for man, whose function it is to show respect and love for God's universe and all its creatures, his heart has been created so tender that it feels with the whole organic world ... mourning even for fading flowers; so that, if nothing else, the very nature of his heart must teach him that he is required above everything to fe the brother of all beings, and to recognize the claim of all beings to his love and his beneficence.
Horeb, Chapter 17, Verse 125 — Pirkei Avot

POSTNot a head stands out A finger rises Then it is the voice that one knows A signal a brief note A man leaves Up above a cloud that passes by No one goes in And the night keeps its secret — Pierre Reverdy

I couldn't wait to get out of the car. The first thing I did was smell the air. I closed my eyes and took a breath, the biggest breath of my life, knowing I was taking the biggest breath of my life. I was taking a breath to smell Shepelevo. Breathing in Shepelevo was like hitting the right note on the piano. There was only one right note. When I was young, Shepelevo was the smell of nettles, of salted smoked fish, of fresh water from the Gulf of Finland, and of burning firewood, all wrapped up in one Shepelevo. As it had been, so it was. Across two continents, a dozen countries, twenty cities, three colleges, two marriages, three children, three books, and twenty-five years of another life, I breathed it and smelled the air. Nowhere else in the world had it. "Papa," I said, my voice breaking. "Do you think we could photograph the smell?" He gave me a look and then laughed. — Paullina Simons

She hadn't been Rachel that night. She was evidence, a body of things to be picked and probed at, pictured and asked about, recorded and quoted. I want my life back. The voice was faint inside her own mind. She could hear the plaintive, almost despairing note to that voice. Like the wail of a scared child, this wasn't just about facing her fears. This was about everything. Her injuries, the loss of the life and world she'd once taken for granted, her long recovery. — Anais Torres

So you dared to walk into the lion's den."
She smiled up into his intent dark eyes. "As it turned out, there was no danger."
"No?" His voice held gently mocking note. "Look where it's led. You're in my bedroom with your dress undone. — Lisa Kleypas

She said it quite correctly; there was nothing offensive in the quiet politeness of her voice; but following his high note of enthusiasm, her voice struck a tone that seemed flat and deadly in its indifference - as if the two sounds mingled into an audible counterpoint around the melodic thread of her contempt. — Ayn Rand

Louisa Carrington, come here." Her head came up at the imperious note in his voice. "Allow me to rephrase that: Dearest Wife, would you let me hold you?" He held out his arms, willing her to accept his embrace. Her first steps were tentative, but he held her gaze and waited until she was bundled against his chest. "I want to shout at you, Joseph. I am very like my father in this." "Go ahead and shout. I think better when I'm holding you. Perhaps you think better when you shout." She — Grace Burrowes

Almost as if speaking to herself, she continued, I would love to fly. I've always wondered what it be like to have that sense of freedom.
A wistful note in her voice tugged at something deep inside him.He replied. I couldn't conceive of living without it. I can't imagine being forever grounded. — Thea Harrison

There ain't no female equivalent of blue balls. Nothin' even close. It's a uniquely masculine condition, and one I think I'm going to suffer with for the next couple of hours."
"B-but you don't have to-"
He couldn't help a chuckle at the note of frantic frustration in her voice. "Darlin', if you weren't three sheets to the wind, I promise I'd already have you on your back in the bed of this truck."
She glanced over her shoulder. "It doesn't look very comfortable."
"I assure you comfort would be the furthest thing from your mind."
And based on the tightness of his jeans, it sure as hell was the furthest thing from his. — Victoria Vane

Lymond is back."
It was known soon after the Sea-Catte reached Scotland from Campvere with an illicit cargo and a man she should not have carried.
"Lymond is in Scotland."
It was said by busy men preparing for war against England, with contempt, with disgust; with a side-slipping look at one of their number. "I hear the Lord Culter's young brother is back." Only sometimes a woman's voice would say it with a different note, and then laugh a little. — Dorothy Dunnett

There was a sweetness in my voice I found nauseating. I made a note to myself never to have children. Or at least not helpless children. — Tod Goldberg

You used your power to toss one rock at me?" he exclaimed, an almost comic note of incredulity in his voice.
"On the contrary," I heard Dorian say pleasantly. "I didn't use magic for that. I just threw it. — Richelle Mead

It must be extremely unsettling for you not having any memory of the past," Anna said with a soft note of curiosity in her voice.
"Frightening is a better word." Victoria's expression grew somber as she bit her lip in a display of distress. Suddenly her face lightened and a smile curved her lips. "Although I think my reputation for having a very unpleasant personality is much more intimidating. — Monica Burns

So," he said, "you think that I'm charming. You didn't list that among my assets before." "Of course you're charming." She didn't look up. "I'm charmed. I'm charmed to my teeth." There was a note in her voice that sounded so bitter that it almost tasted sweet. "You're a force of nature, Your Grace," she said. "But so am I. So am I. — Courtney Milan

You look like hell," she observed. "I can't call the coast guard because you ripped out my VHF. I'm going to have to get you to shore as fast as possible."
He held up his hand. "No. I can't be seen." He forced a trembling note into his voice. "I think someone's trying to kill me."
"That's a shocker," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. — Christine Feehan

At last Hyacinth asked rather mournfully: "Why do you keep on pushing me away?" The note of unhappiness in that voice quite shocked him. How little one knows what one knows, or wants what one wants. — Robert Musil

Your Majesty," he whispers, breathless. A note of amusement creeps into his voice. "You'll ruin me. — Marie Lu

How may one describe enchantment? As he sang, his countenance softened, and without benefit of costume or any other artifice of the stage, the Gaspari I knew faded and was transfored into something eerily beautiful. A delicate hand, rising and turning like a vine, seemed to unfurl this otherworldy sound into the air. Though I could not translate the words, there was no need, for the sound went straight to my soul, transcending the poor and broken language we mortals must use. I slipped gratefully out of my body and floated on the current of music, feeling that all of us round the table were a single spirit, a single being. I was filled with such love. The voice soared, wave upon wave, until the last note, quivering with tenderness, put us ashore again too soon. — Debra Dean

Adlai Stevenson, himself a notable speaker, often reminisced about his last meeting with Churchill. I asked him on whom or what he had based his oratorical style. Churchill replied, "It was an American statesman who inspired me and taught me how to use every note of the human voice like an organ." Winston then to my amazement started to quote long excerpts from Bourke Cockran's speeches of 60 years before. "He was my model," Churchill said. "I learned from him how to hold thousands in thrall." — William Bourke Cockran

I don't believe she'll be available for the rest of the day," Gabriel said.
"No? Is she in Velora, perhaps? I could go to the school and meet with her there."
"No, she's not in Velora."
Raphael's voice took on a note of concern. "Is she ill, then? I hope not. Is it a fever?"
"No, not a fever - I mean, she's not ill at all. She's just unavailable."
"Raphael's face took on a quizzical expression. "She has not been locked in her room, has she? Really, Gabriel - — Sharon Shinn

Every thought, every word is impressed upon it and carried out in amazing detail. It is like a singer making a record on the sensitive disc of the phonographic plate. Every note and tone of the singer's voice is registered. If he coughs or hesitates, it is registered also. So let us break all the old bad records in the subconscious mind, the records of our lives which we do not wish to keep, and make new and beautiful ones. Speak — Florence Scovel Shinn

Annabelle gave him a chiding smile. "If you're implying that I'm spoiled, I assure you that I am not."
"You should be." His warm gaze slid over her pink-tinted face and slender upper body, then sought hers again. There was a note in his voice that gently robbed her of breath. "You could do with a bit of spoiling. — Lisa Kleypas

A Little Note to My Late Mother
Today is Sunday the 13th March 2016, it is a Mother's Day here in the UK and I'm missing you desperately ntombi kaMdyogolo, mamtipha, bhayeni, manzimade, yiwa. There is no day, no moment that goes by without thinking of you precious mother. Your priceless love carries me day in day out. Your voice of love whispers in my ears morning, noon and night. Your teachings are giving me the reason to live and I'm so proud and blessed to be the seed of your blessed womb. I wish you were here to see your grandchildren who make me proud to be a mother too and a proud grandmother. Your great grandchildren are beautiful and graceful. Happy Mothersday mama and your precious soul may rest in peace my beautiful mother. I love you forever. — Euginia Herlihy