We split a bottle of Norman cider. Not everybody sells Norman cider by the bottle. "Has a European feel" Susan said. "That sounds terrific" I said. "Can I have one?" Susan grinned at me. "How did you ever get to be so big without growing up?" she said. "Iron self-control" I said.
Finally from the crease of the ravine I am following, there begins to come the trickling and splashing of water. There is a great restfulness in the sounds these small streams make; they are going down as fast as they can, but their sound seem leisurely and idle, as if produced like gemstones with the greatest patience and care.
I put in the sounds of instruments such as the guitar and piano, which everybody hears often, and tried to go with melodies that would sound familiar. Rather than trying to do music that I want to do, I focused on doing music that I want my fans to hear.
Like every American, I will never forget where I was on the morning of September 11, 2001. As a member of Congress from Indiana, that day my duties took me to Capitol Hill and to sights and sounds I will never forget.
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.
I don't know about you, but rattlesnake sounds pretty damn good right now.
Self-realization doesn't imply loss, gain, even transition; it's only a settling. The separate sounds on the beach, the birds, the waves, the wind. They all come together again, they blend, they harmonize.
Everybody sounds stoned, because they're e-mailing people the whole time they're talking to you.
You can say that Wayne Coyne sounds like Neil Young.
Whether I make them or not, there are always sounds to be heard and all of them are excellent.
Now, to find dinosaurs, you hike around in horrible conditions looking for a dinosaur. It sounds really dumb, but that's what it is. It's horrible conditions, because wherever you have nice weather, plants grow, and you don't get any erosion, and you don't see any dinosaurs.
Don't be stupid. You're a child. You don't know what it means to be in love. " And she flung open the car door as if she wished she had the strength to rip it from the hinges, and stalked off to the house through the rain. That night, I lay in bed, troubled by what she'd said, blocking out the sounds of argument from my parents' room. Was love what my parents had? Yelling at eachother, worrying about money? Never smiling? Never happy? If that was love, then I didn't want it.
I feel like these sounds are the ultimate kind of free sounds, the ultimate public domain sounds. And I feel like people put them in completely different contexts, and they mean something different to everybody.
Sometimes I listen to music and I wonder how did they get certain sounds.
The little suckings and smackings of the perversions are the sounds of joyous infancy.
This is a writer’s lesson: To learn that the sounds that we imagine can be the clearest, loudest sounds of all.
Totally girly - love all the childish sounds.
The fluent reader sounds good, is easy to listen to, and reads with enough expression to help the listener understand and enjoy the material.
Yet has not Man wept at the sounds? And are not his tears eloquent understanding?
To me, an untrained ear, a young person at the time, I would hear off the different feels, all these different sounds, and then years later realize that everyone had used the same equipment, just to their own ends.