Experimenting With Voice Quotes

I was not rebelling by smoking dope or drinking, I was testing ideas. I was experimenting with voice, what I could say and still be heard in an atmosphere of prescribed truths. ~ Terry Tempest Williams

He narrowed his eyes at me, pushed out of the booth and stomped over to the cash desk where Ash had returned and was playing a game on his mobile phone.

"Sorry, sir," he echoed, dead-pan, and then added: "She is the owner."

He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "And she's righ' crazy, so I wouldn't mess with her. She stabbed someone with a plastic fork just last week."

"A--a plastic fork?" the man said, looking over at me nervously.

"Yeah, and you would not believe the mess. A carving knife woulda made cleaner work of it."

The man slapped a few coins on the counter near the cash and, clutching the remains of his paper, dashed out the door.

"Thanks, Ash," I said, absently.

"No probs," he said. "Chasing zombies on my phone--fair inspirational, aye? ~ K.C. Dyer

She had witnessed a conflict between two men who held her liberty in their hands, her very life and that of her child; one had sought to drag her deeper into darkness, the other to restore her to light. The two contestants, in the heightened vision of her terror, had seemed like giants, one speaking with the voice of a demon, the other in the tones of an angel. The angel had won, and what caused her to tremble from head to foot was the fact that this rescuing angel was the man she abhorred, the abominable mayor whom for so long she had regarded as the author of her troubles. He had saved her after she had most outrageously insulted him! ~ Victor Hugo

With the publication of Running & Being in 1978, George Sheehan's voice became the voice of a movement, sounding a clarion call to hundreds of thousands of people to abandon their sedentary ways, take to the streets, and run. Today, there are millions of us lacing up our running shoes, training for 5-Ks, 10-Ks, half-marathons, and marathons - each trudging the same path of fitness and self-discovery that he blazed decades before. ~ George Sheehan

My mission is to communicate, to wake people up, to give them my energy and accept theirs. We're all in it together, and I respond emotionally as a worker, a mother, an artist, and a human being with a voice. We all have a voice. We have the responsibility to exercise it, to use it. ~ Patti Smith

At some point in this course, perhaps even tonight, you will read something difficult, something you only partially understand, and your verdict will be this is stupid. Will I argue when you advance that opinion in class the next day? Why would I do such a useless ting? My time with you in short, only thirty-four weeks of classes, and I will not waste it arguing about the merits of this short story or that poem. Why would I, when all such opinions are subjective, and no final resolution can ever be reached?'

Some of the kids - Gloria was one of them - now looked lost, but Pete understood exactly what Mr. Ricker, aka Ricky the Hippie, was talking about...

'Time is the answer," Mr Ricker said on the first day of Pete's sophomore year. He strode back and forth, antique bellbottoms swishing, occasionally waving his arms. "Yes! Time mercilessly culls away the is-stupid from the not-stupid."
...
"It will occur for you, young ladies and gentlemen, although I will be in your rear-view mirror by the time it happens. Shall I tell you how it happens? You will read something - perhaps 'Dulce et Decorum Est,' by Wilfred Owen. Shall we use that as an example? Why not?'

Then, in a deeper voice that sent chills up Pete's back and tightened his throat, Mr. Ricker cried, " 'Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge...' And son on. Cetra-cetra. Some of you will say, This is stupid."

~ Stephen King

We are working! She was fine. You could see her. What the fuck is wrong with you? This is our job, asshole. You can't go doing shit like that when we have a packed house!"

Krit shoved him again. "Don't tell me what the fuck to do."

I had to stop them. This was about me. I wasn't sure why Krit had come offstage, but I knew it was about me. I had to fix this. I didn't want Krit fighting his best friend.

"Stop fucking shoving me, you pansy-ass motherfucker!" Green roared, and lunged for Krit.

I moved fast, putting up two hands and jumping in front of Krit to stop him. The force of impact when Green didn't stop hit me directly in the chest. It was as if someone had put a vacuum in my lungs and sucked all of the oxygen from the room. Nothing was getting in, and panic gripped me when I realized I couldn't breathe.

"Fuck!" Krit yelled, and his arms were around me. He was doing something to my chest as he begged me to breathe. I was trying to breathe. It wouldn't work.

"Baby, please breathe," he was pleading, and I wanted nothing more than to do that, but I couldn't. It hurt, and the terror that I was about to die settled over me.

"She got the air knocked out of her. She's gonna be okay," Matty said in a calmer voice.

And then the vacuum left, and the air I had been fighting for filled my chest as I gasped loudly and bent over. Krit was holding me against him as me muttered sweet things over and o ~ Abbi Glines

Chronicler picked up his pen, but before he could dip it, Kvothe held up a hand. Let me say one thing before I start. I've told stories in the past, painted pictures with words, told hard lies and harder truths. Once, I sang colors to a blind man. Seven hours I played, but at the end he said he saw them, green and red and gold. That, I think, was easier than this. Trying to make you understand her with nothing more than words. You have never seen her, never heard her voice. You cannot know. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

He shouldn't have trespassed!"
The voice sounded petulant. Not diabolical.
It gave Belle hope, how human it seemed. In all of her fairy tales and adventure books- the ones with the heroes who were clever rather than strong- this was how you outwitted an opponent. By finding a chink in his armor, a personality flaw to exploit. Then you got him to show off his power by turning into a tiny (and easily stompable) mouse, or slitting open his own stomach.
All she needed was a flaw, and time. ~ Liz Braswell

The journey of finding you can be scary all in itself. The journey to finding the real you start behind the walls of yesterday. Reaching down through the years of hurt can remind you of why you built the wall. However, the journey of finding your voice begins by taking the bricks down one by one until you find the strength to push the wall down. Then you can start over building an improved wall with a door for someone to enter. ~ Dallas Palmer

One thing I always admired about Daddy was the way he could bounce back from adversity. From the very beginning of his life, he'd had more than his share of broken dreams and disappointments. He lived through the Depression, a war, a couple of failed businesses and the deaths of two wives, but he always found a way to pick up the pieces and go on.
When I've hit low points in my own life, I could hear his voice in the back of head saying, "Baby, you've got to roll with the punches. ~ L.K. Campbell

He noticed the hole in the wall. "What the hell happened?"
"We redecorated." I kept my voice level. "Where have you been?"



"Did they succeed?"
"Hell no. Everybody was tired from the hunt and irritable as fuck. They bickered about inheriting the pass, and did their grandstanding, and accused each other of things. Radomil fell asleep. For a few minutes it looked like they might actually agree on something. Then the younger brother - Ignazio - decided it would be a grand idea to jump up and announce that when his nephew was born, at least he would be born smart like his father, so he should inherit the pass and not the other kid, who's been fathered by a citrullo."
"What's a citrullo?"
"From what I gathered, it's either a cucumber or a half-wit." Curran shook his head. "Then the Volkodavi started yelling. The Belve yelled back. Radomil woke up and someone clued him in that he had been insulted but apparently not who'd done it, because Radomil went after Gerardo and called him parazeet and viridok."
"Parasite and bastard," I translated. Voron was Russian. I spoke it well enough, better now that I had someone in Atlanta to practice with, and I'd hung out enough with Ukrainians to pick up the language. Curses were the second thing you learned, right behind yes, no, help, stop, and where is the bathroom?
"Ahh." Curran nodded. "That explains why Gerardo's mother went furry. ~ Ilona Andrews

Only as the written text began to speak would the voices of the forest, and of the river, begin to fade. And only then would language loosen its ancient association with the invisible breath, the spirit sever itself from the wind, the psyche dissociate itself from the environing air. ~ David Abram

But will they be together again? If they're reborn as new people with no memory of their previous lives, how can they find each other?"
"Soul mates will always find each other. Do not weep on their behalf ... they will be together again."
"Do you promise?" Lina's voice trembled with emotion.
"I promise, sweet one. I promise. ~ P.C. Cast

It's somewhat of a contradiction, .. I guess the quieter the voice, the more necessary it is to push it. It's not going to leap out at you and scream. I also can't control how a book is marketed. To say the book marketing is aggressive, fine, I'm happy with that. Push the book. That doesn't mean that my personality or writing style changes. ~ David Bergen

Strive with all your hearts, raise up your voices and shout, until this dark world be filled with light. ~ Abdu'l- Baha

I tried!" She screamed, her eyes filled with raw emotion. All Sarah could do is stand there, speechless at this outburst. Sunni whirled on her heels, pacing back and forth in the narrow confines of the bedroom. "I tried as hard as I fucking could!" She continued, her voice thick with tears and heavy with anger ."I did the best I could! I loved you, no matter what. I loved every part of you, and I accepted who you were! I didn't like some parts, but you know what? It's who you fucking are! That's what you do as a partner!"

She turned on Sarah now, her finger pointed in her direction, tears spilling over as the emotion got the best of her. "I loved you through it all, and what did you do? You abandoned me. You made empty promises to me, ones that filled my heart with hope. Even in my darkest times, you made it about you. Is that who you are, Sarah?!" H

Sunni's voice dropped now, a whisper of shattered glass. "You left me, you abandoned me. Even in my greatest need, I was still there for you. And yet, you couldn't do the same for me. Why? Am I not good enough for you?"

Sarah moved to speak, her throat closing with raw emotion. Sunni shook her head, her hand up to halt Sarah. "No, don't speak. Don't lie to me. No more lies, no more bullshit. If I was enough, then why weren't you there?" She let out a laugh now, a sound that was reminiscence to raw sandpaper. "I needed you, time and time again. I was there for you, because it was my job. It was my ~ Zoe Santana

Highway One, Antarctica is a wonderful debut by a writer with razor-sharp insights to the human condition. Justin Herrmann is a voice I hope to hear more from, and soon. Excellent collection. ~ Jo-Ann Mapson

We excel in cut-and-paste solutions. We make promises and provide quick fixes to tide over the crisis at hand, thereby abandoning long-term objectives. We also seem to keep widening the threshold of our tolerance. We see enormous wrong, abysmally high levels of corruption, but accept these as necessary evils and refuse to raise a voice against them. We need to ask ourselves not only why we choose to live with mediocrity, but also when we plan to stand up and say, enough is enough. I daresay - and I am relieved to see this in my lifetime - such change is on its way; we see welcome signs, particularly from GenNext. ~ Vinod Rai

I think about entrance and exits. I think about dialogue. But most of all I think about voice - all character development in theatre is done through voice. And as I wrote my debut novel "The Big Fear", I thought about narrative voice with every line. ~ Andrew Case

I think one of my pursuits over the years is trying to answer the question of, 'What else can you do with a voice other than stand in front of a microphone and sing?' ~ Brian Eno

I don't know what's happening to me," she says, blinking through a veil of tears as she looks everywhere but at me. "I don't think I can do this anymore."
My heart plummets inside my chest, my lips still hovering over hers, my hands on her waist "do what anymore?" I don't want the answer, don't want to hear what follows my question, don't want to lose her.
"Fight it." Tears are still flowing from her eyes, but I think she stop crying. She sucks and several breaths when she looks at me, her eyes are clear that I anticipated. She's scared shitless - that's clear - but it's like she stop fighting the fear, giving into it instead.
Her lips apart and I'm a stop whatever she's about to say, silence her with my lips, but I don't, forcing myself to hear, needing to know what's got all worked up.
"I think I'm in love with you," she says, her chest heaving with every ravenous breath she takes, yet her voice is astonishingly even and she manages to maintain my gaze.
My voice however is the exact opposite of even, coming out all high-pitched like I'm a thirteen year old and going through puberty all over again. "What?"
She sucks and a breath, then releases is slowly, the fear in her eyes subsiding, as if she just won it. "I think I'm in love with you..." She bites on your lips and shakes her head. "No...I don't think. I know."
I gradually process her words and the full extent of what she's saying. I think I'd honestly believed that she might never say t ~ Jessica Sorensen

Guess what?" Maggie said as soon as I walked into Celmentine's.
"What?"
She clapped her hands. "I have a date to the prom!"
"Guess what?" I replied.
"What?"
"I don't." Her mouth dropped open. "Oh, and," I added, "I bought a bike."
.... "Okay, let's just slow down." She held up her hands, palms facing me. "First things first. What do you mean, you don't have a date?"
"Just that," I said, sitting down at the desk. "Jason bailed on me."
"Again?"
I nodded.
"When?"
"About twenty minutes ago."
"Oh, my God." She put her hand over her mouth: her expression was so horrified, like someone had died. "That's the worst thing ever."
"No," I said, swallowing. "It's actually not."
"No?"
I shook my head. "The worst thing is that right afterward, I marched right into the bike shop and asked Eli to go with me, and he said no."
She threw up her other hand, clapping it over the one already covering her mouth. "Holy crap," she said, her voice muffled. "Where does the bike come in?"
"I don't know," I said, waving my hand. "That part's kind of a blur. ~ Sarah Dessen

Earthly love ... is temporal and slight so that is has to be given again and again in order for us to feel any sense of security; but God's love, God's voice and presence, would instill our souls with such affirmation we would need nothing more and would cause us to love other people so much we would be willing to die for them. ~ Donald Miller

The voice fell low, sank into her breast and stretched the tight bodice over her heart as she came up close. He felt the young lips, her body sighing in relief against the arm growing stronger to hold her. There were now no more plans than if Dick had arbitrarily made some indissoluble mixture, with atoms joined and inseparable; you could throw it all out but never again could they fit back into atomic scale. As he held her and tasted her, and as she curved in further and further toward him, with her own lips, new to herself, drowned and engulfed in love, yet solaced and triumphant, he was thankful to have an existence at all, if only as a reflection in her wet eyes. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

I like to make my voice sound like a piece of tin that's been stuck on the side of a chair, lifted up as far as it would go and then let to spring - "doooiiinng." I like to make it into a piece of metal from time to time and I can do it, both with the movements in my throat and with, uh, my little toys ... So I like to take it beyond just a voice, more into the realms of a weapon. ~ Robert Plant

Only a few people in Burgdorf had read Mein Kampf, and many thought that all this talk about Rssenreinheit-purity of the race-was ludicrous and impossible to enforce. Yet the long training in obedience to elders, government, and church made it difficult-even for those who considered the views of the Nazis dishonorable-to give voice to their misgivings. And so they kept hushed, yielding to each new indignity while they waited for the Nazis and their ideas to go away, but with each compliance they relinquished more of themselves, weakening the texture of the community while the power of the Nazis swelled. ~ Ursula Hegi

Do these past days mean nothing?" he asked, so gently that my weak self curled around his words.
But I would no longer be weak. I tapped into that power in my veins and a shimmering wall of flames sprang up between us. Amar jumped back, shocked and then…amused.
"A little ruthlessness is to be admired, but it's cruel to play with a powerless heart."
"Crueler still to promise equality and hide a person's true self."
"I thought it was best for you," he repeated.
"Strange how something that only affected me was decided by you."
Amar's smile turned cold. "My promises were true. You seek to punish an illusion without fully knowing. What were your kisses, then? Vengeance?"
The wall of flames shimmered away. Anger still flared inside me, but now it was mixed with something else. Something I couldn't push away, despite fury. Want.
"They were nothing," I lied. "They meant nothing."
I didn't look at him. And then, a bloom of cold erupted beside me and Amar was at my side. His fingers traced a secret calligraphy along my arms.
"Nothing at all?"
My heart twisted. I reached forward, my hands tangling in his hair as I kissed him. It was a kiss meant to devour, to summon war. And when I broke it, my voice was harsh:
"My kisses mean nothing."
"Cruel queen," he murmured, tilting my head back. His lips skimmed down my neck. Amar's hands gripped my waist, before tracing the outline of my hips. Heat flared through my body. But just ~ Roshani Chokshi

Domaholic?" His voice went all funny with amazement. "Fuck, you're so cute. ~ Lucian Bane

On the fifth day I knew Kaidan would have made it home. I held my breath and called him. I listened to every charming word of his voice mail, then hung up. That evening I sat on my bed and called again. This time I left a message.

"Hi, Kai, um, Kaidan. It's me. Anna. I'm just trying to see if you made it home safely. I'm sure you probably did. Just checking. You can call me anytime. If you want. Anyway. Okay, bye."

I hung up and buried my shamed face into a pillow. Now I was leaving messages after he'd made it clear he wanted zero to do with me? Next thing I knew I'd be frequenting his shows to give him psycho stares from the back, and then doing late-night drive-bys to see what girl he was bringing home. The thought of him with another girl made me writhe in discomfort and curl up in the fetal position.
Day six was our first day of back-to-school shopping. We still had a month before school began, but the state issued a tax-free day, so stores were having big sales. I eyed all the teensy skirts and fashionable shirts dangling on mannequins. I tried to imagine Kaidan's reaction if I came dressed like that to one of his shows, some guy other than Jay on my arm. Ugly stalker thoughts. I was full of them.
Two weeks passed, and I was still tripping over chairs to grab the phone every time it rang, like now.
This time it was Jay. ~ Wendy Higgins

In the beginning, there was the voice.
That was how it began on that first evening, with a masculine voice calling out to me in my sleep; a disembodied voice slithering into my dream, a voice of deep timbre and tones, of sensuous growls, and of low hollow moans- a voice laden with promise and with love. It was as familiar to me as my own, and yet I knew not whether it came from inside my head, from outside me, or from somewhere not of this earth. Hushed like wind through a valley and smooth like velvet, it beckoned me, and I neither had, nor wanted, power against it. The voice was my master. ~ Karen Essex

If you look into your own mind, which are you, Don Quixote or Sancho Panza?" he had asked in the great essay on dirty postcards. "Almost certainly you are both. There is one part of you that wishes to be a hero or a saint, but another part of you is a little fat man who sees very clearly the advantages of staying alive with a whole skin. He is your unofficial self, the voice of the belly protesting against the soul. ~ George Orwell

Strange how a land untraveled can look so familiar"
Mappo blinked, the memories scattered by the sound of that familiar soft voice. He glanced up at Icarium. "Stranger still how the mind's eye can travel so far and so fast, yet return in an instant"
The Jhag smiled. "With that eye you might explore the entire world"
"With that eye you might escape it". ~ Steven Erikson

I had a hole in my voice. It's an area in the voice where it's air. It's just - there's no - it's just very airy. And my classical teachers were just so frustrated with me because I would have these deep, low notes that were really strong, and the higher register was strong, but right in that middle area, it was really hard. It was like a passage. And many singers go through this and work it out. But I realized in jazz, I could just take advantage of that and take advantage of having a voice that was very different in different areas. ~ Cecile McLorin Salvant

With the a cappella groups, every voice is like one string on a guitar, one note on the piano, or one cymbal, and you don't have the luxury of falling back on anything. ~ Ben Folds