His grip on my shoulder tightens. His other hand behind my head caresses me softly and I sigh. "Touch me, Skye." His voice is rough, almost sounding like a groan.
Remember yourself. Deep inside, you have an observer, a constant neutral witness to your posture, gesture, facial expression, breathing, taste, impressions of light and sound. Don't leap to interpret. Just be there and observe.
A woman who utters such depressing and disgusting sounds has no right to be anywhere - no right to live. Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift to articulate speech: that your native language is the language of Shakespear...
You are not showing her my baby pictures!” He sounded horrified, which made me laugh. “Come on, Evan,” I teased with a laughing smile, “you were adorable.
God split himself into a myriad parts that he might have friends. This may not be true, but it sounds good—and is no sillier than any other theology.
Soul mates, I've always believed in, so I accepted the truth there. But curses? That was extreme. There had to be a place where the line was drawn between fiction and reality, and a curse sounded way more on the fiction side of the spectrum.
Caleb!” The sharp, forceful tone demanded he halt. He found he had complied, but did not turn around. His voice sounded low and hoarse, likely because he couldn’t breathe. “Alex, I can’t.
My love is a cloud sound, silent as an orange flamingo. Too many swimmers have drowned while trying to fly, and there should be a law against making a law against that.
In the future, it’ll be my child, but it will be my child’s life, so I must name it not for me, but for it. I like how that sounds. I think I’ll call it “It.” Boy or girl, It is perfect.
If you were to ask me what kind of musical sound I aspire to produce, that noise would be a wet nipple sliding across a cheese grater. I’m a sucker for love songs.
Walking on the beach like a ventriloquist, I’ll make it sound like the ocean is calling out to you—through a conch shell.
My brakes sound like my horn, and my car’s bumper is bumpy enough to be brail. My ideal reader would be a speed-reading blind politician I didn’t vote for.
Sometimes you can't stand the sound of her voice and other times you wonder how you'd even breathe if she wasn't there. That's marriage, and she'll feel the same way.
Pure and soft, the melody is entrancing. Haunting. I’m glued to my seat, waiting, hoping for the next enthralling sound. I’d close my eyes if I weren’t afraid I’d miss a second of his performance.
that old Mrs. Bishop was lacking in the qualities that make a good mother. And saying it that way makes her sound a good deal better than she really was.
Their conflicting sounds oppose one another, outdo one another, and fight to be better than one another. The crescendo of the heart being ripped to shreds, loves….
Malibu: With sounds of waves crashing, and the ocean at the doorstep, you feel like you are hours away from civilization. And with L.A. traffic, YOU ARE.
Genua had once controlled the river mouth and taxed its traffic in a way that couldn't be called piracy because it was done by the city government, and therefore sound economics and perfectly all right
And so we must dig in to see where raw words and fundamental sounds are buried so that the great silence within can finally be decoded.
It was kind of soothing, these sounds of lives being lived all around me, for better or for worse. And there I was, in the middle of them all, newly reborn and still waiting for mine to begin.
It's why I went into teaching in the first place. I like the sound of my own voice. Well that, and I am addicted to the smell of chalk and white-board markers.
