I can't wait to get my memory back. It sounds like I am a really cool person
You should try not to talk so much, friend. You'll sound far less stupid that way. - Breeze
...I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists...
There’s only so much a man can survive and as fucking weak as it sounds, I reached my limits when Skye disappeared. —Duke
I laughed uneasily. “Jeez, you guys make it sound like I was on the brink of death or something. I just fainted.” (Sabina)
the flanger setting ... makes it sound as if the chord is being chewed over thoughtfully by a large genie accustomed to telling long, implausible stories
And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed.
A fat man eating quails while children are begging for bread is a disgusting sight, but you are less likely to see it when you are within the sound of the guns.
A tissue of small sounds filled the room, a bird, a clock, a voice from another garden. What we call silence.
Every time he tried to reconstruct the internal arguments that had led to his decision, they sounded feebler to him.
I totally bought you as a girl," says Marisol. "I'll double check with Frances later, but by the sounds of things, you seem to have no balls.
NO!” The scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that Professor McGonagall could make such a sound.
He was willing to pay her to hang around his house and paint Piper's fingernails? It sounded as easy as Britney Spears.
Learning to pipe isn't easy. At first it always sounds worse than a chicken yard full of squawking adolescent roosters.
He thrashed like a freshly caught fish as the sucking sounds of draining water gurgled from the pooling blood in his mouth.
I know how syrupy this sounds, how dull, provincial, and possibly whitewashed, but what can I do? Happy childhoods happen
Her protestations were drowned out by the sound of Gordon Honeycomb barfing up aftershock into the kitchenette sink.
The sound came again. There was a whistle to it, and a moan. It was almost a hiss, and it could’ve been a strangled gasp. Above all, it was quiet, and it seemed to have no source. It whispered.
After a while, it all started to fade. No more pain, no more unwanted thoughts and no sound. Just darkness. I welcomed it. I was done.
Under the thinning fog the surf curled and creamed, almost without sound, like a thought trying to form inself on the edge of consciousness.
the music would look Liesel in the face. I know it sounds strange, but that’s how it felt to her.
