Ministry Of Sound Quotes

Places like Ministry of Sound are too druggie for me. Smaller, local places are where it's at for me. ~ Katie Price

As a minister of the Lord in whatever way the Lord decides to use you and with the gifts he gives you for the work, there is the tendency to start idolizing the work itself or the gifts that you forget it is the father who gave it to you. Who picked you up and dusted you from nothing and adorned you. You forget and make the work a god before him. Exodus 20:3 "You shall have no other gods before me".
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This can be very subtle especially for social media ministry. You begin to love your social image over the word of God. You begin to dampen and tweak the word of God to appeal to a wider audience. You're suddenly no longer about the raw truth of the gospel. As the followers and likes increase you begin to get more and more addicted to the fruit of the works and the response to YOUR messages and posts. If a post doesn't do too well and get many likes and comments you are not happy. It hurts you deeply. That is how you know It has become about you.
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If this is you and this message has touched your heart, if this post is like a mirror to your face, go back to God and ask for forgiveness. Ask God to forgive you for elevating yourself and your work as a god before him and return back to when it was just about loving him and preaching the good news. You probably may have noticed you lost the fire of inspiration you used to have at the beginning. This is why. ~ Daniel Friday Danzor

As we know, the week has 168 hours. People spend on average only one hour at church on Sunday morning. What about the other 167 hours spent primarily at work, at home, and at play in a world quite intolerant of Christians, embracing other truths but opposing the truth of the Bible, enamored with narratives but rejecting the narrative of Jesus? What type of church prepares for that type of world? A Church for Monday! ~ Svetlana Papazov

Note: When reading dry political theory, such as the texts you will find on the following pages, it may be useful to apply the Exclamation Point Test from time to time, to determine if the material you are reading is actually relevant to your life. To apply this test, simply go through the text replacing all the punctuation marks at the ends of the sentences with exclamation points. If the results sound absurd when read aloud, then you know you're wasting your time. ~ CrimethInc.

The whole dead weight of my growing fear fell upon me and shook me. Then I burst out laughing too. It was the only thing to do: and the sound of my laughter also made me understand his. The strain of physical pressure caused it
this explosion of unnatural laughter in both of us; it was an effort of repressed forces to seek relief; it was a temporary safety-valve. ~ Algernon Blackwood

I've taken Mia hunting twice and she was like most little girls--she was afraid of the spiders and whatever else was crawling in the blind! The first time, it was only Mia and I, and it was a special day. I gave her a BB gun, and she shot the ducks after I'd already knocked them into the water. I think it took her about fifty BBs before she finally connected, but she had a blast. I didn't know some friends of mine were hunting close by. Later, they told me they heard us shooting and kept hearing a strange sound like a BB gun. They said when she finally connected, they heard us screaming and hollering. ~ Jase Robertson

I don't have a role model, but I certainly have always enjoyed Neil Young. I had the great pleasure and opportunity to watch him from the side of the stage on a couple of occasions, and his on-stage sound is incredible. ~ Kevin Shields

We should not underestimate the enormity of the task which lies ahead. But little can be achieved without sound money. It is the bedrock of sound government. ~ Margaret Thatcher

I try whistling to fill in the silence. The soprano sax from Coltrane's "My Favorite Things," though of course my dubious whistling doesn't come anywhere near the complex, lightning-quick original. I just add bits so what I hear in my head approximates the sound. Better than nothing, I figure. ~ Haruki Murakami

He was still holding his jacket around me and standing extremely close. The heat from his body called to me, summoning desire I'd only ever read about. As I gazed up into his sweet face, I couldn't deny that I longed for his kiss. I tried to fight it down, to convince myself I couldn't let this progress any further. It had already gone too far. However, something inside conveyed an unspoken request and, as if to answer me, he slowly leaned down.
I closed my eyes, feeling the sweetness of his breath graze my mouth, shivering, awaiting the tender passion of his kiss. And when his mouth finally pressed against mine, all time stopped. Soft and passionate, the heat of his lips warmed the cold of mine. The world around us faded. No sound. No movement. No time. ~ Christi Anna

They played, not beautifully but deep, ignoring their often discordant strings and striking right into the heart of the music they knew best, the true notes acting as their milestones. On the poop above their heads, where the weary helmsmen tended the new steering-oar and Babbington stood at the con, the men listened intently; it was the first sound of human life that they had heard, apart from the brief Christmas merriment, for a time they could scarcely measure. ~ Patrick O'Brian

What I believe to be one of the major tragedies in the Church today. Namely, that evangelicals are biblical, but not contemporary, while liberals are contemporary but not biblical, and almost nobody is building bridges and relating the biblical text to the modern context ~ John Stott

This kind of thing is why more and more Christian parents are concluding that they cannot afford to keep their children in public schools. Some tell themselves that their children need to remain there to be "salt and light" to the other kids. As popular culture continues its downward slide, however, this rationale begins to sound like a rationalization. It brings to mind a father who tosses his child into a whitewater river in the hopes that she'll save another drowning child. ~ Rod Dreher

The musician of disordered sound, the poet of decomposed language, the painter and sculptor of the fragmented visual and tactile world: they all portray the break up of the self and, through the rearrangement and reassemble of the fragments, try to create new structures that possess wholeness, perfection, new meaning. ~ Heinz Kohut

Scratch an intellectual, and you find a would-be aristocrat who loathes the sight, the sound and the smell of common folk. ~ Eric Hoffer

I started off singing in church as a child. The sound of voices coming together, that was my first moment of touching something outside of myself. ~ Florence Welch

Emma convinced herself she'd lost him because she was fast. She was also adept at convincing herself of things that might not be - good at pretending. She could pretend she took classes at night by choice, and that blushing didn't make her thirsty
A vicious growl sounded. Her eyes widened, but she didn't turn back, just sprinted across the field. She felt claws sink into her anckle a second before she was dragged to the muddy ground and thrown onto her back. A hand covered her mouth, though she'd been trained not to scream.
"Never run from one such as me." Her attacker didn't sound human. "You will no' get away. And we like it." His voice was guttural like a beast's, breaking, yet his accent was ... Scottish? ~ Kresley Cole

the fragrance of a sound ~ Donald Revell

Not only is natural burial by far the most ecologically sound way to perish, it doubles down on the fear of fragmentation and loss of control. Making the choice to be naturally buried says, 'Not only am I aware that I'm a helpless, fragmented mass of organic matter, I celebrate it. Vive la decay!' ~ Caitlin Doughty

I would make another effort to divert my thoughts. I would listen to my heartbeat. I couldn't imagine that this sound which had been with me for so long could ever stop. I've never really had much of an imagination. But still I would try to picture the exact moment when the beating of my heart would no longer be going on inside my head. But it was no use. ~ Albert Camus

Inside McClintic Sphere was swinging his ass off. His skin was hard, as if it were part of the skull: every vein and whisker on that head stood out sharp and clear under the green baby spot: you could see the twin lines running down from either side of his lower lip, etched in by the force of his embouchure, looking like extensions of his mustache.
He blew a hand-carved ivory alto saxophone with a 4 ½ reed and the sound was like nothing any of them had heard before. The usual divisions prevailed: collegians did not dig, and left after an average of 1 ½ sets. Personnel from other groups, either with a night off or taking a long break from somewhere crosstown or uptown, listened hard, trying to dig. 'I am still thinking,' they would say if you asked. People at the bar all looked as if they did dig in the sense of understand, approve of, empathize with: but this was probably only because people who prefer to stand at the bar have, universally, an inscrutable look…
…The group on the stand had no piano: it was bass, drums, McClintic and a boy he had found in the Ozarks who blew a natural horn in F. The drummer was a group man who avoided pyrotechnics, which may have irritated the college crowd. The bass was small and evil-looking and his eyes were yellow with pinpoints in the center. He talked to his instrument. It was taller than he was and didn't seem to be listening.
Horn and alto together favored sixths and minor fourths and when this happened it was l ~ Thomas Pynchon

Who sent you?" O'Ryan asked. "What was your purpose here?"
"To ... to tell you ... " The words didn't sound nearly as furious coming out of my mouth as they did in my head. The camp controller leaned forward, eyes narrowing into slits. "To go ... fuck yourself. ~ Alexandra Bracken

I wish he was mine," he said. The words slipped out without thought, but there was no taking them back...

"I love Gus," she said, cutting him deep, deep. "Not only is he my husband, but he is honorable and noble and good, and I vowed before God that I would love him." She made a harsh tearing sound in her throat. "When I saw him that day, when he knocked me over with his bicycle, he was like something out of a dream, my dream." She looked at him, and her eyes glittered like shards of glass. "Oh, God, God, how could I have known, how could I have known? Up until that moment, you see, he was the closest thing I'd found to you. ~ Penelope Williamson

So, tell me," he whispers. "How fast did you climb those fourteen stories?"
Thomas makes a disapproving sound in his throat, but I break into a grin. Storm's past. Metias loves me again. "Six minutes," I whisper back to my brother. "And forty-four seconds. How do you like that?"
"That must be some sort of record. Not that, you know, you're supposed to do it. ~ Marie Lu

This nation's elected leaders owe all Americans the duty of formulating an Iraqi policy based on sound analysis of the actual facts. ~ Charlie Gonzalez

I couldn't help overhearing," he went on. "Grrr," said Emerson. (I assure you, there is really no other way of reproducing this sound.) "Honestly. ~ Elizabeth Peters

Her body gripped him in rapturous spasms as she went over the edge, lost in the pulsing intensity of feeling. His breath caught, and then he made a sound low in his throat, a velvety growl, while the heat of his release spread inside her.
They relaxed together slowly in the aftermath, their joined flesh resonant with deep twitches and throbs of pleasure.
Cassandra sighed and purred as his hands coasted over her tired limbs. "I think I was begging," she admitted, "near the end."
Tom pressed a soft laugh against the side of her throat, and kissed her flushed skin. "No, sweet. I'm sure that was me. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I sometimes wish taste wasn't ever an issue, and the sounds of instruments or synths could be judged solely on their colour and timbre. Judged by what it did to your ears, rather than what its historical use reminds you of. ~ Jonny Greenwood

When I started off with Trainspotting, it was the way the characters came to me. That's how they sounded to me. It seemed pretentious to sound any other way. I wasn't making any kind of political statement. ~ Irvine Welsh

The night stayed outside. She was surprised. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Instead, blue things flew in, pieces of glass or tin, or necklaces of blue diamond, perhaps. The air was the blue of a pool when there are shadows, when clouds cross the turquoise surface, when you suspect something contagious is leaking, something camouflaged and disrupted. There is only this infected blue enormity, elongating defiantly. The blue that knows you and where you live and it's never going to forget. ~ Kate Braverman

No, they're contemporary witch hunters, based in Russia."
The crease deepened. "Hold on a moment. They sound like assholes?"
I blinked, uncertain I'd heard him correctly. "I beg your pardon?"
Jesus grimaced and pointed at his head. "It's this tiny human brain-I have to have a filing system for all this information or I can't keep track of it all. It sounds like these guys would be filed under Assholes Who Do Evil Shit in My Name."
"Jesus. I mean, wow. That's the name of one of your files?"
"One of my largest, unfortunately. ~ Kevin Hearne

Do you think they'll target her as well
as you? Surely if you simply stay away from the gel, she'll be safe?"
"But I don't propose to stay away from her," Reynaud said.
"Ah." Vale stared at him for a moment, and then a wide smile spread across his face.
"Like that, is it?"
"That," Reynaud snarled, "is none of your business."
"Indeed?" Vale was grinning like an idiot now. "Well, well, well."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I have no idea. I just like saying it. Well, well, well. Makes one sound uncommonly
insightful. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

What I think a psychic is, unfortunately, I think in this day and age, it's taken on sort of a rancid sound. ~ Sylvia Browne

Stopping at the sound of the words he just spoke, my cheeks warmed and my pussy meowed. Yes, it meowed like a hungry feline. ~ K.M. Golland