Quotes & Sayings About When I Hear Your Voice

Maxon cleared his throat. "He'll be lucky, too." He got down from his make shift seat and walked to my side of the balcony.
"Huh?"
"Your boyfriend. When he comes to his senses and begs you to take him back,: Maxon says matter-of-factly.
I had to laugh. No such thing would happen in my world.
"He's not my boyfriend anymore. And he made it pretty clear he was done with me." Even I could hear the tiny bit of hope in my voice,
"Not possible. He'll have seen you on TV by now and fallen for you all over again. Though, in my opinon, you're still much too good for the dog. — Kiera Cass

Daddy shook Pappy's hand, then Henry's, then hugged the children. At last he turned to me. Softly, in a voice meant for my ears along, he said, When you were a year old and you came down with rubella, the doctor told us you were likely to die of it. Said he didn't expect you'd live another forty-eight hours. Your mother was frantic, but I told her that doctor didn't know what he was talking about. Our Laura's a fighter, I said, and she's going to be just fine. I never doubted it, not for one minute, then or since. You keep that in your pocket and take it out when you need it, hear? — Hillary Jordan

The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight. — Virginia Woolf

I came in at half past eleven. Since then I have been sitting in an easy chair like a fool. I could do nothing. I hear nothing but your voice. I am like a fool hearing you call me 'Dear.' I offended two men today by leaving them coolly. I wanted to hear your voice, not theirs. When I am with you I leave aside my contemptuous, suspicious nature. I wish I felt your head on my shoulder. — James Joyce

When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.
For as long as you remember me, I am never entirely lost. When I'm feeling most ghost-like, it is your remembering me that helps remind me that I actually exist. When I'm feeling sad, it's my consolation. When I'm feeling happy, it's part of why I feel that way.
If you forget me, one of the ways I remember who I am will be gone. If you forget, part of who I am will be gone. — Frederick Buechner

Listen to me," he said, his voice even and intense, "and listen well, because I'm only going to say this once. I desire you. I burn for you. I can't sleep at night for wanting you. Even when I didn't like you, I lusted for you. It's the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is. And if I hear one more word of nonsense from your lips, I'm going to have to tie you to the bloody bed and have my way with you a hundred different ways, until you finally get it through your silly skull that you are the most beautiful and desirable woman in England, and if everyone else doesn't see that, then they're all bloody fools. — Julia Quinn

Do not write. I am sad, and want my light put out.
Summers in your absence are as dark as a room.
I have closed my arms again. They must do without.
To knock at my heart is like knocking at a tomb.
Do not write!
Do not write. Let us learn to die, as best we may.
Did I love you? Ask God. Ask yourself. Do you know?
To hear that you love me, when you are far away,
Is like hearing from heaven and never to go.
Do not write!
Do not write. I fear you. I fear to remember,
For memory holds the voice I have often heard.
To the one who cannot drink, do not show water,
The beloved one's picture in the handwritten word.
Do not write!
Do not write those gentle words that I dare not see,
It seems that your voice is spreading them on my heart,
Across your smile, on fire, they appear to me,
It seems that a kiss is printing them on my heart.
Do not write! — Louis Simpson

As soon as the door closed, Levi popped his eyes again. Bluely. "That's your twin sister?"
"Identical," Reagan said, like she had a mouth full of hair.
Cath nodded and sat down at her desk.
"Wow." Levi scooted down the bed so he was sitting across from her.
"I'm not sure what you're getting at," Cath said, "but I think it's offensive."
"How can the fact that your identical twin sister is super hot be offensive to you?"
"Because," Cath said, still too encouraged by Wren and, weirdly, by Abel, and maybe even by Nick to let this get to her right now. "It makes me feel like the Ugly One."
"You're not the ugly one." Levi grinned. "You're just the Clark Kent."
Cath started checking her e-mail.
"Hey, Cath," Levi said, kicking her chair. She could hear the teasing in his voice. "Will you warn me when you take off your glasses? — Rainbow Rowell

So what do I do? What do we do? How do we move forward when we are tired and afraid? What do we do when the voice in our head is yelling that WE ARE NEVER GONNA MAKE IT? How do we drag ourselves through the muck when our brain is telling us youaredumbandyouwillneverfinishandnoonecaresanditistimeyoustop? Well, the first thing we do is take our brain out and put it in a drawer. Stick it somewhere and let it tantrum until it wears itself out. You may still hear the brain and all the shitty things it is saying to you, but it will be muffled, and just the fact that it is not in your head anymore will make things seem clearer. — Amy Poehler

Singing for stage, if you don't hear yourself, that's when you push, and that's when you can hurt your voice sometimes. So if I can hear myself in my ear, it really helps me to find that balance of how loud I needed to be singing. — Aaron Tveit

A few minutes after discovering we had a goal but no plan, Brent was laughing heartily at a pathetic joke I had made. It reminded me of the first
day on campus when I had thought his laughter sounded like a melody. It did now, even more so. It was music, beautiful, in a manly way, like a
sensual, slow jazz. I loved jazz.
"Jazz, huh?" Brent asked, his voice suddenly husky.
"Uh ... what?"
"My laugh reminds you of jazz? Is there anything about me you don't find attractive?" He rubbed his hand over his lips trying to cover his smirk.
"So tell me, how much do you love jazz?"
I'm sure my face was pinker than the inside of a watermelon. "I didn't say any of that."
"You didn't have to say it, Yara, I could hear it." Brent tapped the side of his head. "I can hear your thoughts."
"You're not serious."
"Oh, but I am," he said, completely straight-faced. — Lani Woodland

I know how you feel. I know because I live for the moment I hear your voice when you answer ... and everything changes for me. I live for the hello. — Shey Stahl

When you're young, you want to make every kind of film: musicals, Westerns, horror. Slowly you begin to hear your own voice. I hope people receive what I do as small, personal films that are somewhat contrarian about their main characters. — Jason Reitman

When I lie this close to you, when I smell your scent, when I hear your voice, I know everything that matters."
She looked down the length of him.
"You are the male I want to mate with. That's who you are. — J.R. Ward

Every time I hold your hand, or hear your sweet voice, or see you from across the room, or when I hear you laugh... God, I love to hear you laugh. It's the sweetest sound in the whole damn world. And I would suffer through hours and hours of Joe's dumb jokes just to hear that sound. Do you know what you do to me? Do you know? You wreck me and heal me all at the same time. — Pamela Sparkman

Look!You want to see? See! Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my cursed ugliness! Look at Erik's face! Now you know the face of the voice! You were not content to hear me, eh? You wanted to know what I looked like? Oh, you women are so inquisitive! Well, are you satisfied? I'm a good-looking fellow, eh? ... When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me.She loves me forever! I am a kind of Don Juan, you know! ... Look at me! I am Don Juan Triumphant!
-Erik in The Phantom of the Opera — Gaston Leroux

I think when someone is injured in your family, you want to speak to the individual and you want to hear their voice and you want to make sure they are OK. — Roger Goodell

I can't listen to my own voice, I don't like it. You see all your mistakes when you hear your voice. You see all your imperfections. — Cher

No, it's not comfortable; I hate watching myself. You don't like when you hear your voice on your voicemail; imagine having to see yourself 30 feet wide and 30 feet big. — Don Cheadle

I see the way you look at me. I feel the way you touch me. I hear the hidden messages in your voice. Unlike you, I've been blessed knowing the warmth that comes with love. The way a person's eyes glow and body softens. You love me! And if you can stand there and deny it - when it's so blatantly obvious - then there really is no hope for us. You might as well march me outside and complete the Final Debt, because I'd rather you kill me quickly than live through this endless death!-Nila — Pepper Winters

I don't mind him not talking so much, because you can hear his voice in your heart; the same way you can hear a song in your head even if there isn't a radio playing; the same way you can hear those blackbirds flying when they're not in the sky — Adam Rapp

When we die, as when the scenes have been fixed on to celluloid and the scenery is pulled down and burnt - we are phantoms in the memories of our descendants. Then we are ghosts, my dear, then we are myths. But still we are together. We are the past together, we are a distant past. Beneath the dome of the mysterious stars, I still hear your voice. — Jostein Gaarder

What's coming out of the stereo is like a genre unto itself, a charming, fucked-up fairy tale that immediately breaks my heart in all the best ways.
I stretch out on the floor with my ear parked next to the speaker, in a trance. I place the album cover over my face to block out any interruption as "I'll Be Your Mirror" seduces me. I immediately add the song to my mental list of top ten songs ever.
And as I'm bobbing my head with dreamy abandon, I hear a voice. "Nice choice, DJ," it says.
I slowly slide the album cover down past my eyes and look up. My eyes spy his shoes first
paint-splattered brogues. My heart stops when I look at his face. Pale skin, messy black hair, emerald eyes ... Senor Smolder! He's eighteen, maybe nineteen. And no, my imagination didn't lie, he is just as devastating now as he was the first time I saw him. Only even more, because he just complimented my taste in music. — Shauna Cross

You said it to me once. It was the last day we had together. And that was 39 days ago. I can still hear your whisper loud as a horn in my ears, when you told me that you love me. This memory is so clear in my head, as if it were yesterday. Even though I am not sure how to describe your voice, how it sounds, these three words you said. I know. And I have to trust them. — D.S. Wrights

She smiled a little, and there was effortful lightness in her voice when she asked, "And how would you know what darkness is like?" Her hand brushed his feathers and they sparked to her touch. "You are your own light."
And Akiva almost said, I know what darkness is, because he did, in all the worst senses of the word, but he didn't want Karou to think he was retreating to the bleak state she'd drawn him out of in Morocco. So he held his tongue and was glad he had when she added, so softly he nearly didn't hear, "And mine. — Laini Taylor

For no reason at all, I thought of New Year's Eve, when all those people crowd into Times Square and scream like jackals as the lighted ball slides down the pole, ready to shed its thin party glare on three hundred and sixty-five new days in this best of all possible worlds. I have always wondered what it would be like to be caught in one of those crowds, screaming and not able to hear your own voice, your individuality momentarily wiped out and replaced with the blind empathic overslop of the crowd's lurching, angry anticipation, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder with no one in particular. — Richard Bachman

Being the offspring of English teachers is a mixed blessing. When the film star says to you, on the air, 'It was a perfect script for she and I,' inside your head you hear, in the sarcastic voice of your late father, 'Perfect for she, eh? And perfect for I, also?' — Dick Cavett

At times I feel your voice is reaching me from far away, while I am prisoner of a gaudy and unlivable present, when all forms of human society have reached an extreme of their cycle and there is no imagining what new forms they may assume. And I hear, from your voice, the invisible reasons which make cities live, through which perhaps, once dead, they will come to life again. — Italo Calvino

End of Winter"

Over the still world, a bird calls
waking solitary among black boughs.

You wanted to be born; I let you be born.
When has my grief ever gotten
in the way of your pleasure?

Plunging ahead
into the dark and light at the same time
eager for sensation

as though you were some new thing, wanting
to express yourselves

all brilliance, all vivacity
never thinking
this would cost you anything,
never imagining the sound of my voice
as anything but part of you -

you won't hear it in the other world,
not clearly again,
not in birdcall or human cry,

not the clear sound, only
persistent echoing
in all sound that means good-bye, good-bye -

the one continuous line
that binds us to each other. — Louise Gluck

In Notes of a Jazz Survivor, a documentary about his drug- and jail-ravaged life, Art Pepper and his wife, Laurie, listen to his recording of "Our Song." The entry of the saxophone, Pepper explains, is "like the most subtle hello." Ramamani's voice is the response to this call; it is Laurie's hand reaching for her husband's as they listen. Ramamani tells us not only what it is like to love, but also what it is like to be loved. When I hear her voice, darling, I feel your hand in mine. — Geoff Dyer

Darling gave him a sad smile. "Maris and I have been to hell and home together. Back to back, we have defended each other with everything we possess. Anytime we needed to turn to someone, we called each other. Until today. When he thought he was dying, it was your voice he wanted to hear last. Not mine. Honestly, a part of me is a little hurt. I've never had to share him before with anyone. But I love him enough to let him go. His happiness means everything to me." "Me, too." Darling hugged him close. "Thank you for calling me." "Thank you for saving him." He pulled back and offered his hand to Ture. "Brothers?" "Brothers." * — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I am not without you,
that you are with me from the moment I wake until the moment I fall asleep,
that it's you when the wind caresses me,
that it's your voice I hear in the silence,
you whom I see when I close my eyes,
you who make me laugh and sing when I know no one else is around. — Jan-Philipp Sendker

And I often tell friends: "When you don't know what to do, do nothing. Get quiet so you can hear the still, small voice, your inner GPS guiding you to true North. — Ashwin Sanghi

Cate, I cant say what you want to hear. Not yet. I want you to know that
when I do, I'll mean it. Completely. Irrevocably."
"When?" I ask, voice small but hopeful. "Not if?"
"When." He takes my cold hand in his. "I'm falling in love with you more every day. I don't know if they were the same things I loved about you before, but now
the bit of red in your hair. The way you tilt your chin when you get angry, like you're charging into battle. How fiercely protective you are of the people you care about. How big your capacity for forgiveness is. You are an amazing woman, Cate Cahill. — Jessica Spotswood

As I look back I know that most of the mistakes I have made have come when I didn't listen to myself, when I didn't trust my instincts ... I believe you need to listen, carefully, to hear your inner voice. And then, you have to do what it says. — Christine Todd Whitman

I am, O Anxious One. Don't you hear my voice
surging forth with all my earthly feelings?
They yearn so high, that they have sprouted wings
and whitely fly in circles round your face.
My soul, dressed in silence, rises up
and stands alone before you: can't you see?
don't you know that my prayer is growing ripe
upon your vision as upon a tree?
If you are the dreamer, I am what you dream.
But when you want to wake, I am your wish,
and I grow strong with all magnificence
and turn myself into a star's vast silence
above the strange and distant city, Time. — Rainer Maria Rilke

My dad has a story about hearing from me at work one day when I hadn't had a chance to call in a while. He picked up the phone and was surprised to hear my voice. He was even more surprised that I was whispering. "Chris, why is your voice so hushed?" he asked. "I'm on an op, Dad. I don't want them to know where I'm at." "Oh," he answered, a little shaken. — Chris Kyle

Let me tell you a story, Alix. This ship ... the Talia? It's named after my father's older sister. She killed herself when she was fourteen because she couldn't stand living the horror of her life for another day. With her death she both condemned and freed my father from his monster of a father. I never knew the pain of her life or his. But I named this ship after her to remind me of all the children out there like her and Omari ... the children out there like your sister who are silent in their pain. They have no voice and no hope. But I hear them. Every time I think of my parents. Every time I see Omari, I hear the sobs that are kept inside for fear of it making their lives worse, and I will not stand by and see your sister torn apart by an animal. You help me nail him and I swear to you, I will lay Merjack down at your feet and hold him there while you take your revenge. (Devyn) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Don't say no to me you can't say no to me because it's such a relief to have love again and to lie in bed and be held and touched and kissed and adored and your heart will leap when you hear my voice and see my smile and feel my breath on your neck and your heart will race when I want to see you and I will lie to you from day one and use you and screw you and break your heart because you broke mine first and you will love me more each day until the weight is unbearable and your life is mine and you'll die alone because I will take what I want then walk away and owe you nothing it's always there it's always been there and you cannot deny the life you feel fuck that life fuck that life fuck that life I have lost you now. — Sarah Kane

Six silent people in a room got me to thinking about the voice we hear in our heads when we read, the universal narrator's voice you may well be hearing right now. Whose voice *is* it you're hearing? It's not your own, is it? I didn't think so. It never is. So I posed the question out loud ... "
" ... When you read a book, whose voice is it you hear inside your head?"
"It's certainly not my own", said Harj, and the others chimed in with the same claim.
"Then whose it? — Douglas Coupland

Weren't you scared?" I ask.
"Yes. But it was a good scared."
"There's a good kind?"
"Oh, yes." Her voice drops so low I have to strain to hear. "Orlin made me scared all the time. Scared I would starve. Scared I would get too cold. Scared he would hurt me again or get so mad he'd throw me to one of the men. That was nasty bad scared." She pauses, scuffing her boots against the floor. "But you never hit me, even though I'm your slave ... You always feed me. You call me my true name. Now when I'm scared, it's not because of meanness. And today, I chose my own scared. It's always a good scared, when you get to pick it your own self. — Rae Carson

I hear your voice in my sleep. When I'm near you, I am aware of every fucking second your body shifts. When I'm not near you... I can't even think straight because I'm too busy thinking about what stupid thing you said or visualizing every smile you give me. Seeing you with my brother awakens my dark heart... kissing you, carves out my soul. I forsake every itch my body has for you just so I cannot be trapped by you. Never in my life have I wanted a woman so much yet couldn't do it because I know that once we really just..." I lift my hands up clawing at the air. "When we sink into each other... it will be over. — Chelsea Ballinger

Finally, Gunner spoke, his voice so fluid and moving, it could have come from the river itself. I once hear a poem about angling. It say when you send out your line, it is like you cast out your troubles to let the current carry them away. I keep casting. — Clare Vanderpool

I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book. I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried. I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor. I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said " ... worried about Percy, sir." I froze. I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to an adult. I inched closer. — Rick Riordan

Lord, I pray that You would give my husband a heart to obey You. Reward him according to his righteousness and according to the cleanness of his hands (Psalm 18:20). Show him Your ways, O Lord; teach him Your paths. Lead him in Your truth, for You are the God of his salvation (Psalm 25:4-5). Make him a praising person, for I know that when we worship You we gain clear understanding, our lives are transformed, and we receive power to live Your way. Help him to hear Your specific instructions to him and enable him to obey them. Give him a longing to do Your will and may he enjoy the peace that can only come from living in total obedience to Your commands. In Jesus' name I pray. Obey My voice, and I will be your God, and you shall be My people. And walk in all the ways that I have commanded you, that it may be well with you. JEREMIAH 7:23 — Stormie O'martian

How can I live so that when someone sees me, they are pointed to Jesus? When I speak, is it the Messiah's truths they hear? How can I live that no power is seen to be mine, no authority, no crown, no glory. It all belongs to him. I am the willing, loving servant, providing hands, feet, voice, eyes, and ears for the Holy Spirit to use." "It is the challenge we all should accept," Alban said slowly. "Once again I am blessed by your words. — Davis Bunn

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

Now, you might say: how can this be? I cannot feel his presence in any way. Listen to this. Sensing his presence is not in your power but in his. He will show himself when it suits him to do so, and he can also remain hidden if that is his wish. This is what Christ meant when he said to Nicodemus: 'The spirit breathes where it will: you hear its voice but do not know where it comes from, or where it is going' (John 3:8). — Meister Eckhart

My default answer to everything is no. As soon as I hear the inflection of inquiry in your voice, the word no forms in my mind, sometimes accompanies by a reason, often not. Can I open the mail? No. Can I wear your necklace? No. When is dinner? No. What you probably wouldn't believe is how much I want to say yes. Yes, you can take two dozen books home from the library. Yes, you can eat the whole roll of SweeTarts. Yes, you can camp out on the deck. But the books will get lost, and SweeTarts will eventually make your tongue bleed, and if you sleep on the deck, the neighborhood racoons will nibble on you. I often wish I could come back to life as your uncle, so I could give you more. But, when you're the mom, your whole life is holding the rope against those wily secret agents who never, ever stop trying to get you to drop your end. — Kelly Corrigan

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

I love the name of it. Makes me feel hopeful. I want it over my mantle." I paused in what I was doing, my eyes scanning over the photos title, Second Chances. He was smiling, I could hear it in his voice, when he added, "And I could tell it was your favorite when you showed it to me. I figure I have a better chance of getting you to come back to my house, if I fill it with the things you love." He'd hit his target with the opening salvo. That second part was just overkill. — R.K. Lilley

Ever since I made the decision to drop a few pounds - way less easy than it sounds, by the way - I've become obsessed with my size, and in so doing I've inadvertently allowed my inner critic to have a voice. And you know what? She's a bitch. Like now when I see my underpants in the laundry, I no longer think Soft! Cotton! Sensible! Instead I hear her say Damn, girl, these panties be huge."
"Your inner critic has terrible grammar."
"I know, it's the only way I can take away some of her power over me ... — Jen Lancaster

You shall be my roots and
I will be your shade,
though the sun burns my leaves.
You shall quench my thirst and
I will feed you fruit,
though time takes my seed.
And when I'm lost and can tell nothing of this earth
you will give me hope.
And my voice you will always hear.
And my hand you will always have.
For I will shelter you.
And I will comfort you.
And even when we are nothing left,
not even in death,
I will remember you. — Mark Z. Danielewski

Even though I'd love to hear your sweet voice, even if it was only words on a page, it doesn't matter. When I sleep, I share dreams with you. You're right next to me in this cot. I hear your breathing, and feel peace; at the same time I ache because you're also so far away. I think loving you, having you in my life, will be like that. A never-ending craving and peace at once. — Joey W. Hill

I prefer to sing in the shower 'cause the acoustics are really, really good, I mean, when you're singing against the tile walls then you really hear yourself, hear your voice, you know, throwing itself back at you. — Thia Megia

He looked at her in bittersweet despair. "Sometimes, Kate, when I'm inside you and your arms are around me, I'm human again. There's a beginning and an end to my life again. And all because of your love. It's been a gift to me, one I've never deserved. But I cherished it."
And maybe he'd destroyed it with the ungodly truth. He didn't know. He drew
a shaky breath, battered by a fresh wave of regret, and his voice trembled. "I thought I had broken your heart a while ago. I didn't know how to make you hear me, and I knew that by telling you the truth, I'd lose you. But here you sit. You haven't flipped out, not visibly anyway, nor accused me of being a liar. And you haven't run in terror, now that you're truly free to go. I don't know what to think. Tell me, Kate ... have I lost you? — Shelby Reed

When you remember me, it means you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart. — Frederick Buechner

I aint heard no voice, he said. When it stops, said Tobin, you'll know you've heard it all your life. Is that right? Aye. The kid turned the leather in his lap. The expriest watched him. At night, said Tobin, when the horses are grazing and the company is asleep, who hears them grazing? Dont nobody hear them if they're asleep. Aye. And if they cease their grazing who is it that wakes? Every man. Aye, said the expriest. Every man. — Cormac McCarthy

Hey'? Seriously?" I spared a moment to be grateful that my voice worked when the rest of me seemed to be malfunctioning. "I pass out under your care, then wake up half paralyzed to hear that some kind of 'horde' is in our area, and that's your opener? 'Hey'?"
Finn shrugged while I glared up at him. "I almost went with 'Get up and help me pack before we're overrun by a horde of degenerates,' but I was afraid that might lead to more panic than the situation actually warrants."
"There's a limit to how much panic a situation like that warrants? — Rachel Vincent

This is a recorded announcement," it said, "as I'm afraid we're all out at the moment. The commercial council of Magrathea thanks you for your esteemed visit ... " ("A voice from ancient Magrathea!" shouted Zaphod. "Okay, okay," said Ford.) " ... but regrets," continued the voice, "that the entire planet is temporarily closed for business. Thank you. If you would care to leave your name and the address of a planet where you can be contacted, kindly speak when you hear the tone. — Douglas Adams

He said he doesn' have it. Pick on someone your own size." You could really hear the Irish in Kiernan's voice back then. I mean, you can still hear it, but it's more of a lilt when he's older. Back then, it was a full-on brogue. — Rysa Walker

I think that you are the liar!" I say, my voice quaking. "You tell me you love me, you trust me, you think I'm more perceptive than the avarge person. And the first second that belief in my perceptiveness, that trust, that love is put to the test, it all falls apart." I am crying now, nut I am not ashamed of the tears shining on my cheeks or the thickness of my voice. "So you must have lied when you told me all those things ... you must have, because I can't believe your love really is that feeble."
I step closer to him, so that there are only inches between us, and none of the others can hear me.
"I am still the person who would have died rather than kill you," I say, remembering the attack simulation and the feel of his heartbeat under my hand. "I am exactly who you think I am. — Veronica Roth

You stand fully clothed in a dark room with a spotlight on you. It's bright but not blinding. So bright, you think the light should warm you.

"Will you take off your clothes now, please." he says from the dark.

A calm voice, but definitely a commanding voice. I can imagine when it's raised it could be, but in all the time he never raised it, the tone was always just right; even when he would say. "Yes, please let me hear you moan now. Louder" It was always pitched just right.
Except that one time. — Germaine Gibson

Your voice I know. It had me terrified. When I hear it in dreams, from time to time all my life, it sounds like a taunt - but dreams distort sound, for they send it over many waters. During these hard days, I, a pilgrim, am giving my consideration to this. I trudge along the bottom of the river and the questioning goes on in me. What are we made of but hunger and rage? His heels rise and fall in front of me. How surprised I am to be entangled in the knowledge of some other animal. — Anne Carson

No one knows we're there, no one sees us. We never leave the room. I think about the secret voice you use when you make love. No one but that person will ever hear it. And here, we listen to each other, but we lock it in with touch, and the room vacuum seals it to stay fresh until we can breathe together again. When he breaks the silence it is to say, I want you to know that, when you get pregnant, nothing is going to change except your dress size. — Emma Forrest

My mother is a big believer in being responsible for your own happiness. She always talked about finding joy in small moments and insisted that we stop and take in the beauty of an ordinary day. When I stop the car to make my kids really see a sunset, I hear my mother's voice and smile. — Jennifer Garner

You know how sometimes you hear a chord played on an organ and you can feel it vibrating in your bones? Sometimes when I'm writing, I can feel my bones vibrating because I'll have a thought or I'll have a character's voice in my head, and that's when I know I'm on the right track. — Laurie Halse Anderson

Suddenly I remembered something Daddy told me once when I was angry at my mother. "You know how Mom arranges orange slices on a plate for your soccer team and has activities planned for your birthday parties two months in advance?" he'd asked me. "That's the way she shows her love, Gracie." Why was I thinking about that now? I could hear his voice so clearly, like he was talking to me from the backseat of the car. That's the way she shows her love, Gracie. — Diane Chamberlain

I didn't hear you," I spoke directly into his ear, hoping my voice was husky and alluring, but most likely wind-whipped and warbled.
"I said, when I kiss you, I want you to be completely wrapped up in my touch." He paused before adding, "The way you touched Nikolai last night wasn't something I wanted to see. It was hot and sexy, and I don't know where I stand." Slowing down, he muttered, "When I kiss you, I want to see desire blaze in your eyes. I want you to need me to kiss you so much you have no choice but to yield. — Jade Hart

When we walk I hear your footsteps
and miss your voice — Jennifer Clement

Seeing you lights up my day, to hear your voice makes me smile all cheesy, to see you smile makes my heart all warm and fuzzy, when you say I love you makes my body weak. — Alice Gardner

So," he said, shaking his head. "I'm too much for you. You should have said something. We might be married, Mercy, but no still means no."
I widened my eyes at him. "I just haven't wanted to hurt your feelings."
"When I give you that little nudge, hmm?" His voice took on a considering air. "Come to think of it, I'm feeling a little nudge coming on right now."
"Now?" I whispered in horrified tones. I looked up toward Jesse's room. "Think of the children."
He tilted his head as if to listen, then shook it. "They won't hear anything from there." He started slowly down the stairs.
"Think of Darryl, Zack, Lucia, and Joel," I said earnestly. "They'll be scarred for life."
"You know what they say about werewolves," he told me gravely, stepping down to the ground.
I broke and ran - and he was right on my tail. Figuratively speaking, of course. I don't have a tail unless I'm in my coyote shape. — Patricia Briggs

I'm saying this because it's said breaths are stolen during a passionate kiss. That's not true, Gavin, because I literally can't breathe before your lips even touch mine. I try, but I'm unable to. I can't think when you look at me. You strip my mind bare. You always have, and it's beautiful and consuming. It's magical and everything a girl is supposed to feel. It's said you're truly in love with someone if your skin tingles from their touch. Mine tingles when I hear your voice; I don't need you to touch me. I can feel you when you're not near me. I feel you in my dreams. I felt you when you were a thousand miles away. — Gail McHugh

Please, Handsome Halvor, don't be angry. It makes me so sad when I don't hear your velvety voice admonishing me. — K.M. Shea

Nightingale
Did I wound you, mutilate. Take away your voice. Did I cut something from you. Leave you locked in silence?
This is what you do: you sing. Every part of you. Your locks of hair sing, your eyes, your hands, your smile. If I listen closely I can even hear your blood.
Was I the one that took that away?
Go down to the water where we used to swim. Stand under the sky at dawn when the sky is streaked with blood. Open your mouth and shout our secret to the waves. The ocean will be your voice. You won't have to carry anything alone. Little Sister, my Spring, April. Little nightingale. Sant at the edge of the water. Your voice will come back to you. Maybe. If I am silent. — Francesca Lia Block

Wolfy, is it? And what do you know about my turning?"
"I asked around when I figured out I was your ... mate."
He stood, crossing to her. "Well, let's hear it."
"Basically, you'll lose your mind, turning animalistic, hunting me down until you claim me repeatedly, biting my neck and marking me as your possession. Nothing will stop you- no cage can hold you. Did I miss anything?
"Aye, Lousha." His gaze raked over her and his voice deepened. "The fact that you're going to like it. — Kresley Cole

My daughter was sixteen," she went on. Tears ran over the bridge of her nose and onto the block, but her voice remained strong and loud. "Sixteen, when you burned her. Her name was Kaleen, and she had eyes like thunderclouds. I still hear her voice in my dreams."
The king jerked his chin to the executioner, who stepped forward.
"My sister was thirty-six. Her name was Liessa, and she had two boys who were her joy."
The executioner raised his ax.
"My neighbor and his wife were seventy. Their names were Jon and Estrel. They were killed because they dared to try and protect my daughter when your men came for her."
Rena Goldsmith was still reciting her list of the dead when the ax fell. — Sarah J. Maas

I...I'm sorry," Kylie mumbled.
"Don't you even try to talk your way out of me being pissed!" Burnett growled. "Not a word!"
"I just..."
"That's two words and I said not one!" he snapped, and he swiped his hand through the air for emphasis.
Kylie bit down on her lip, and wouldn't you know it that's when the tears started flowing. Big, fat, and fast tears. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her breath caught in her chest. But damn it. Why couldn't this have happened when she was alone?
"Those tears do not affect me, young lady!" He pointed a finger at her. While she couldn't hear his heart beat to the rhythm of a lie, she heard it in his voice.

***

"I just..."
"Did I say you could talk?" he asked. He did three more pacing laps, as if working off steam, before he looked at her again. "Where were you going, Kylie?"
When she just looked at him, he bit out, "Answer me."
"You said I couldn't talk. — C.C. Hunter

Where are you now? What roads are you treading? We have so many new roads now, right across the steppe all the way to the Altai and Siberia. Many brave souls are toiling there. Perhaps you're among them? You left, my Jamilia, across the wide steppe without a backward glance. Perhaps you are weary, perhaps you have lost faith in your self? Just lean on Daniyar's shoulder. Have him sing to you his song of love, of life, of the earth. May the steppe come alive and blossom in all its glory. May you recall that August night. Keep on, Jamilia, have no regrets; you've found your hard-sought happiness.
When I gaze at them long enough I can hear Daniyar's voice. He is calling to me, too, to take the highroad, which means it is time for me to get ready. I shall cross the steppe back to my village and find fresh colours there.
May Daniyar's song resound and may Jamilia's heart beat with every stroke of my brush. — Chingiz Aitmatov

Hi, John. My name is Elana," said a soft, sexy voice. "I'm with Prestige Fish, returning your call." "Hi, Elana, thank you for calling me back." "You're welcome," she said. "You're welcome." You don't always hear that when you say "thank you." You often hear "no problem" or "absolutely" or something. "You're welcome." Something about it felt direct, confident, like the website. She — Michael Craven

Two thoughts walked into my place. The first thought said that we hadn't slept together because sex would have closed an entrance behind us and opened an exit ahead of us. The second thought told me quite clearly what to do. Maybe Takeshi's wife was right - maybe it is unsafe to base an important decision on your feelings for a person. Takeshi says the same thing often enough. Every bonk, he says, quadruples in price by the morning after. But who are Takeshi or his wife to lecture anybody? If not love, then what? I looked at the time. Three o'clock. She was how many thousand kilometers and one time zone away. I could leave some money to cover the cost of the call. "Good timing," Tomoyo answered, like I was calling from the cigarette machine around the corner. "I'm unpacking." "Missing me?" "A tiny little bit, maybe." "Liar! You don't sound surprised to hear me." I could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm not. When are you coming? — David Mitchell

I've always hated my voice. You sound different in your head when you hear it out loud. — Kit Harington

I couldn't meet his gaze. I stared at the table just behind him
the mess of cards on it, the lantern giving off its quiet glow. "When you gave me your shirt to wear that night, I could feel you. I could feel your essence."
The world went still. We were standing only inches from each other, not touching. Outside, I could hear the faint murmur of the wind blowing through the trees.
"What did it feel like?" he asked in a low voice.
"Like ... coming home," I admitted. — L.A. Weatherly

When I hear the hypercritical quarreling about grammar and style, the position of the particles, etc., etc., stretching or contracting every speaker to certain rules of theirs. I see that they forget that the first requisite and rule is that expression shall be vital and natural, as much as the voice of a brute or an interjection: first of all, mother tongue; and last of all, artificial or father tongue. Essentially your truest poetic sentence is as free and lawless as a lamb's bleat. — Henry David Thoreau

You may not need to tell me, I can hear your song better when your voice is silent and your heart is singing. — Debasish Mridha

Nice is good, but it's not enough. I want you back for real. I want to talk to you at lunch, instead of staring at you while you eat. I want to see the smile on your face and know I put it there. I want to hear your dad's voice get all low and pissed off, like it only does when I've stayed over too late. — Rachel Vincent