Sing, boy! sing! The ages are waiting for you. Sing! sing! All the world will hear you. God knows what will come of it.
What you see and what you hear depends a great deal on where you are standing. It also depends on what sort of person you are.
For what you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are.
The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.
He sees me when I'm lying. He hears me when I flirt.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd be up for hearing about the one-eyed chick
I could almost hear the characters inside, murmuring and jostling, impatient for me to open the cover and let them out.
In practice, we return over and over again to perception, to just sitting. Practice is just hearing, just seeing, just feeling.
It wasn't until I worked in the Perth Hospital kitchen in the 1970s that I began hearing stories about the ghosts that haunted their halls at night.
I think I will do nothing for a long time but listen, And accrue what I hear into myself...and let sound contribute toward me.
Music could do that, create a magical oasis where nothing else mattered except hearing the next line of the score.
I hear it a lot “Heaven is under the women feet,” I doubt that; I found it between them.
We feel good when we hear about how powerful we are because we are pure power.
Listen to the murmur of water and you'll hear Mother Nature. Listen to the stillness beneath, and there you'll find God.
When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other.
Wise man can make people hear more lessons than words spoken.
Hello, Mary.' It was like hearing a note of divine calm after a dissonant passage of music. My confusion died away.
It was so quiet you could hear a fly run into a wall. Everyone was staring at me like I’d just pulled up my shirt and asked for some beads.
I’m always hearing that everyone needs someone to love, but I just don’t think people are interchangeable like that.
How could a soulmate not hear the heart beats, not smell the tears of a lover, however far he is from her?
When I hear people say Rest In Peace, I get jealous, because I’m a restless sleeper.
