Whisper And Shout Quotes

Mistress Creation keeps calling my name ... i long for her, and she, for me ... we will be reunited soon. In the interim, i bide my time dreaming of her, writing about her and stretching her across the vast landscape of my imagination. "Soon", i whisper to her, "Soon ~ Jaeda DeWalt

She unclenched her fist and stretched her hands. The sermon was a buzz in her ear, and every time she tried to listen, a stronger voice screamed in her head, What if you gave up the only chance you'll ever have for true love...? ~ Willowy Whisper

Love is not a white lie. It doesn't fill the cracks and make bad things beautiful or okay. Love is allowing ourselves to be fooled, not being fooled. Leaving ourselves open to hurt, not the hurt itself. Leaving ourselves open to delusion, not delusion itself. It's not a guarantee, it's the act of promising. The breathtaking act of hope. It's the stupid high-stakes gamble that pays off. It's a whisper of a touch. It's a window flung open and naked to the day. ~ Sung Yim

My son will not allow any fires tonight," Gaea said from the depths of the warehouse. "He is the void that consumes all magic, the cold that consumes all fire, the silence that consumes all speech."
Leo wanted to shout: "And I'm the dude that's all out of here! ~ Rick Riordan

He pauses his analysis of my chest and looks up into my eyes. His stare holds me there for a long moment and I realise I am succumbing to his will whether I like it or not. He is the predator - he has been all along - and I am his prey. Aurelie of Donrose, it seems, was no match for this invader from the northlands.
"Unexpected?" he repeats.
He rises with care to a standing position, grasping the post to his left for support. His tall frame is now right next to me, his head skimming the silken canopy over us. He leans toward me and presses himself against my nakedness. I gasp, closing my eyes at the contact and yet relishing the physical closeness.
"Does that mean my captive is warming to her new master?"
I open my eyes to find his face right there, above me, that large mouth ready to devour its prey. "I… I don't know," I whisper, looking into his eyes. There's an honesty about my answer that disconcerts me.
Anders shifts his weight slightly, snaking his right hand around my body and skimming my behind. Once there he grabs my left cheek and holds me, using my own body to pull me closer to him. My throbbing wet centre, already pushed forward by the bondage holding my ankles in place, nestles against his clothed right thigh.
"You are not sure, Aurelie, or you are just too afraid to say?"
I blush at his accurate analysis of the situation, dropping my eyes from his gaze. His hand rises north, leaving my ass and taking me by surprise. Anders uses ~ Felicity Brandon

It throbbed and pulsed, channeled by elemental forces of fear, love, hope, and sadness. The bow stabbed and flitted across the strings in a violent whorl of creation; its hairs tore and split until it seemed the last strands would sever in a scrape of dissonance. Those who saw the last fragile remnants held their breath against the breaking. The music rippled across the ship like a spirit, like a thing alive and eldritch and pregnant with mystery. The song held. More than held, it deepened. It groaned. It resounded in the hollows of those who heard. Then it softened into tones long, slow, and patient and reminded men of the faintest stars trembling dimly in defiance of a ravening dark. At the last, when the golden hairs of the bow had given all the sound they knew, the music fled in a whisper. Fin was both emptied and filled, and the song sighed away on the wind. ~ A.S. Peterson

See there, Heck? Thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I don't want my boy starting out with something like this over his head. Best way to clear the air is to have it all out in the open. Let the county come and bring sandwiches. I don't want him growing up with a whisper about him, I don't want anybody saying, 'Jem Finch . . . his daddy paid a mint to get him out of that.' Sooner we get this over with the better." "Mr. Finch," Mr. Tate said stolidly, "Bob Ewell fell on his knife. He killed himself. ~ Harper Lee

It's a soulful Sunday, somehow I found myself pulling out my journal and started writing a letter to Sensuality. And it goes like this: Sensuality...

You've opened me up to a world of possibilities and set me on an adventure that has never ceased to amaze me. You have led me through unfounded territories. Through the highest highs and lowest lows I've felt your current, sometimes raging like an angry sea and at times blowing as gentle as a cool summer breeze.

You've filled me with such an insatiable desire, which has been both a curse and a blessing. You've sensitized my soul, made it to feel even the most gentle touch of the lightest feather. You daily seduce me into your deep waters, waters so deep I find myself drowning, yet not losing my breath.

Sensuality... I love how you soothe me when I'm hurting. I love how you comfort and put me back together when I'm feeling broken. I love how you whisper in my ear and say 'do not despair, I'm here.' You uncover my deepest desires and set my soul on fire. You light me up and make me shine like the brightest star on a clear summer night.

There's never a dull moment with you. Just when I think there can't possibly be more, you show me again and again that there's always another level... another layer... another blessing. Your mysteries never run out. I've come know you like God's very own presence. Indeed, you are His very own favour to my soul. His divine beauty, passion and wisdom have I ~ Lebo Grand

Are you happy?' he repeated quietly.
...
'Wouldn't you like to know?'
...
'Yes, or I would not ask. But apparently the child has returned and I shan't have my answer.' He moved away.
She wanted to shout that she was not a child but a woman, and the woman hurt. ~ Katharine Ashe

In everyone's mind there is a whisper of the next step. It may be simple, such as making a phone call or reading a book. It may be a very concrete, mundane step to take that may not even seem connected with your higher vision. Know that you are always being shown the next step; it is always something that comes to your mind as obvious, simple, and a joyful thing to do ~ Sanaya Roman

My lips are just a whisper from his now. We're balanced on the edge of a cliff. One breath closer and we'd be in free fall. ~ Joy N. Hensley

Gennie,you should have told me you hadn't been with a man before." And how was it possible, he wondered, that she'd let no man touch her before? That he was the first...the only.
"Why?" she said flatly,wishing he would go, wishing she had the strength to leave. "It was my business."
Swearing,he shifted,leaning over her. His eyes were dark and angry, but when she tried to pull away,he pinned her. "I don't have much gentleness," he told her, and the words were unsteady with feeling. "But I would have used all I had,I would have tried to find more,for you." When she only stared at him, Grant lowered his forehead to hers. "Gennie..."
Her doubts,her fears,melted at that one softly murmured word. "I wasn't looking for gentleness then," she whispered. Framing his face with her hands, she lifted it. "But now..." She smiled, and watched the frown fade from his eyes.
He dropped a kiss on her lips, soft, more like whisper,then rising, lifted her into his arms. Gennie laughed at the feeling of weightlessness and ease. "What're you doing now?"
"Taking you inside so you can warm up, dry off and make love with me again-maybe not in that order."
Gennie curled her arms around his neck. "I'm beginning to like your ideas. What about our clothes?"
"We can salvage what's left of them later." He pushed open the door of the lighthouse. "We won't be needing them for quite a while."
"Definitely like your ideas." She pressed her mouth against his throat. ~ Nora Roberts

You are the sweetest man, Savannah inserted softly, her voice brushing at him. Echoing.
Gregori frowned. Echoing? Close. He swung around, cursing in French, an eloquent dissertation that had Gary cringing. Savannah,however, simply took Gregori's arm and smiled up at him, the stars in her eyes dancing. She was like that.Distracting him and then slamming him sideways with her smile. With her blue-violet eyes with their accursed star centers. She didn't even have the decency to look repentant.
Don't be angry, Gregori.I was lonesome in the house all by myself. Are you really,really angry? Or just a little angry? Her voice was soft, a siren's whisper, made of silk sheets and candlelight. Her long lashes were thick and heavy, a sweep of magic that caught his eye and held it there.
It is impossible for you to be lonely when you are always running around in my head. ~ Christine Feehan

and his voice came from him in a whisper, ~ Pearl S. Buck

I don't sit here and make these stories up. They are delivered to me, over time, by some relentless and shadowy demand. Trust me, if I wasn't compelled to write then I wouldn't; it doesn't generally make me happy, it certainly doesn't bring any fame or fortune, and the more I think about it the more I struggle to find the positives in it. And yet I cannot help but continually do it. It is like a whisper on a warm breeze from the heart of a portentous sunset: It promises so much, but, ultimately just draws you into the stormy waters. ~ Julian Lorr

concept: we whisper little kindnesses into the night, sending out love to no one in particular and everyone at once. ~ L.J. Buchanan

Spackle!" Manchee barks, tho he's too chicken to attack now that I've held back. "Spackle! Spackle! Spackle!"
"Shut up, Manchee," I say.
"Spackle!"
"I said shut up!" I shout, which stops him.
"Spackle?" Manchee says, unsure of things now.
I swallow, trying to get rid of the pressure in my throat, the unbelieveable sadness that comes and comes as I look at it looking back at me. Knowledge is dangerous and men lie and the world keeps changing, whether I want it to or not.
Cuz, it ain't a Spackle.
"It's a girl," I say.
It's a girl. ~ Patrick Ness

Moving forward quietly to Jerott's side, Adam Blacklock had heard. 'Don't you understand? The authorities are afraid of them both,' he said gently. 'Why do you supose this cordon is here, which only an unarmed girl was allowed to pass through? Lymond, loyal to Scotland, might be a threat to French power greater than even Gabriel, one of these days - Philippa!' And a wordless shout, like a cry at a cockfight, rose among the stone pillars and sank muffled into the old, dusty banners above the choir roof. For Philippa Somerville, who believed in action when words were not enough, had leaned over and snatched the knife from Lymond's left hand. ~ Dorothy Dunnett

You're driving me crazy." His ragged words were barely louder than a whisper but wicked hot against her neck.
And he didn't sound cocky or so sure of himself now. He sounded completely at her mercy.
Like he might just die if she stopped. ~ Amy Andrews

I've often been told you have to play the game to get what you want, give a little of yourself up to get the results you desire. But what if that's all bullshit? What if every time I put a strip of false lashes on and cross my legs on a talk-show stage, I am not getting any closer to creating the change I want to see in the world? What if every pair of Spanx, every morning-TV-ready joke, every Instagram shout-out to the person who made my dress only carries me farther away from my goal? And the goal is big: radical self-acceptance for women everywhere, political change so total it shakes the ground, justice and joy for those who have been used and tossed aside. And the goal is small: utter and unbridled selfhood. ~ Lena Dunham

Our turn," Joan whispers.
She sparks to life a small sphere of light, maybe the size of a globe, right above the audience's heads. And then she breathes life into it, slowly expanding it, like she's blowing up the world's most brilliant, glimmering balloon.
I whisper beside her, "Incredible." Because despite how dangerous magic can be - how it's been used to hide murders, cover up robberies, send people spiraling into the throes of addiction - there's just no denying that it is. ~ Lee Kelly

He found his voice first, though it was a ragged whisper, "Thank you." If I'd had enough breath I'd have laughed. My throat was so dry, that my voice sounded stiff. "Trust me on this, Frost, it was my pleasure." He bent over and laid a kiss on my cheek. "I will try to do better next time." He moved his hands away from me, letting me move, but stayed sheathed inside me as if he were reluctant to let that go. I looked at him, thinking he was joking, but his face was utterly serious. "It gets better than this?" I asked. He nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes." "The queen was a fool," I said softly. He smiled then. "I always thought so. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

She is the woman that contradicts Simone de Beauvoir's saying "One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman." She is the woman that makes your tooth pain seem like a trivial matter in comparison to the heartaches she causes as she deliberately passes by your side. She is the woman that makes your throat feel swollen and your tie to suddenly seem too tight. She is the woman that is able to take you to the seven heavens with a whisper; straight to cloud number nine.. She is the woman that erases all other women unintentionally and becomes without demanding the despot of your heart. She is the woman that sends you back and forth to purgatory and resurrects you with each unintended touch. She is the woman that will ask of you to burn Rome just to collect for her a handful of dust. ~ Malak El Halabi

Just last week I was telling a dear friend how I'd rather not exist in a world where toxic thrives. There are so much enmity plaguing this creed, how we hurt others because we think our idea of faith is supreme, how our interpretation of knowledge is above theirs, how every little whisper we turn into a howl. We forget that only He knows. Our existence are but mysteries; who are we to scar, to burn, to leave marks, to solve this enigma for others, to play God.

The Friday prayer sermon just this afternoon, spoke to me in such illuminating affirmations. Knowledge, especially in faith, is akin to Light. Light binds, not divides. We seek light not out of fear of the darkness but at a promise to gain clarity. This is our intimate journey, how we move towards that Light is ours to make. Like a blind man, like moths at night, a child yearning, just do not stand in their paths, my friend. Your forehead kisses the same Earth like they do, your knees bend the same curve, and each night, your spine collapses just the same. Do not be the lips that question an arm sleeved with tattoos or hair uncovered by cloth or sins not yours, instead be lips that observes silence, kindness and always, prayers for all. I hope your heart does not make space for words like "Kafir", "infidel", "shirk" and instead be a room with gardens and an ocean of calmness. Even our Beloved won't be a judge for another being; Let God

You seek knowledge not to draw boundaries between yourself and ~ Noor Iskandar

the path your life is stuck on and be free

It's a dark whisper calling to me.

But I'm not brave enough to listen. I'm old enough to know I don't have any special talents. So no matter how depressing... I have to suck it up... And live the life I have. ~ Inio Asano

One night, walking along 8th Street in the East Village, I saw some adolescent boys, out too late and unattended. They were playing an arcade video game set up on the sidewalk, piloting a digital spacecraft through starlit infinity, blasting everything in their path to bits. Now and then, the machine would let out a robotic shout of encouragement: You're doing great! So the urchins flew on through the make-believe nothingness, destroying whatever they saw, hypnotized by the mechanical praise that stood in for the human voice of love. That, it seemed to me, was postmodernism in a nutshell. It ignored the full spiritual reality of life all around it in order to blow things apart inside a man-made box that only looked like infinity. You're doing great, intellectuals! You're doing great. Much ~ Andrew Klavan

The God you imagine looks like Father Brennan, the man who baptized you: tall and Irish, with white hair and kind blue eyes, shooting a basketball in black vestments on the parish playground. The Virgin is one of the nuns who ran the adjoining schoolhouse: a spinster with a downy chin, her veil a habit. Old and sacred words, they taught you. You would not invent your own any more than you would try to build your own cathedral. Bead by bead, you whisper the same words Saint Peter spoke in Rome, the same words spoken today by all believers in São Paulo and Boston and Limerick and Cebu. ~ Mia Alvar

There are two special moments in a day I love the most
The moment Before I wake up, the feeling of existment and happinesse like a little kid, the rush of adrenaline into my body the beating of my heart so fast, and the whisper of my heart feeling your arms upon my chest whispers " is she real or are we still dreaming"

The end of the day
I crave you like an addict to drugs
Missing your beautiful face,
Missing the way you smile,
Missing the way you look at me
Missing hearing your voice
Missing the way you smell
Missing your soft skin
Missing how your body shake when my lips thouch your skin ~ Bilal

Hi," I whisper.
He peels off my hands and turns toward the aisle. "Please don't make this any harder than it already is," he whispers back. ~ Stephanie Perkins

I'm not a person who can scream and shout so this is my only outlet. It's all done very logically. ~ Richey Edwards

She did know that she liked the way happiness flooded back into his face, eyes on hers suddenly, warm and private, as if he was about to lean over to her and whisper the best secret ever. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

Your heartbeat is so different from his," I whisper it; he has to ask me to repeat myself. I explain, "My father…his heartbeat was so fast. I could feel it, racing…it was like his heartbeat shook my whole body. Your heart…it's steady. It feels safe. It's calming me down." And so we stand, and I cry, and listen to his heart until I am calm again, and then we get back to cleaning. ~ Sana Lynn

Do the things I never did. Swear. Wear neon colours. Skydive. Climb fences. Ride horses naked. Say obscene things. Make love. Shout at people when they piss you off. Toot your horn. Scream. Become tainted and be proud of it. It's who you are. You came into this world naked and blank, like a canvass, but I want you to go screaming out of it covered in every colour of the rainbow. ~ Sarah Michelle Lynch

But even though nobody from the government ever says anything out loud about a lack of evidence being the real reason nobody from these companies goes to jail, we're all - including reporters who cover this stuff - still supposed to accept that as the real explanation. It's a particular feature of modern American government officials, particularly Democratic Party types, that they often expect the press and the public to give them credit for their unspoken excuses. They'll vote yea on the Iraq war and the Patriot Act and nay for a public option or an end to torture or a bill to break up the banks. Then they'll cozy up to you privately and whisper that of course they're with you in spirit on those issues, but politically it just wasn't possible to vote that way. And then they start giving you their reasons. ~ Matt Taibbi

What if you could take everything you were looking for in a person and whisper it into someone's ear, and they brought that person to you? And then, when you saw them for the first time, even if you didn't know they were the one for you, you suddenly knew it anyway?"
His finger traced my eyebrows, my cheekbones, as he thought a moment.
"What if your heart stopped when you saw that person, and only after that did you realize that they truly were everything you ever wanted? ~ Delilah S. Dawson

All along the line,' said the volunteer, pulling the blanket over him, 'everything in the army stinks of rottenness. Up till now the wide-eyed masses haven't woken up to it. With goggling eyes they let themselves be made into mincemeat and then when they're struck by a bullet they just whisper, "Mummy!" Heroes don't exist, only cattle for the slaughter and the butchers in the general staffs. But in the end every body will mutiny and there will be a fine shambles. Long live the army! Goodnight! ~ Jaroslav Hasek

I'll tell you," said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper, "what real love it. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter - as I did! ~ Charles Dickens

She has shared her hurt with me, and now a little bit of it is mine. This thing she couldn't bear alone, I can bear some of it, I can be hurt, too, and here's the thing you'd never expect about this kind of second-hand-hurt - it feels so good, it makes you feel whole, it makes you feel necessary, and even if you don't realize it right away, you'll find, as time passes, as the bearing of the hurt further intoxicates you, makes you more fully hers and she more fully yours, that you'll do anything to keep it; you'll say anything, you'll believe anything, you'll compromise anything, you'll build your self-worth around that tiny grain of hurt she lent you, and in return you'll hold her chin in your hand and run your thumb over the corner of her mouth and tickle the back of her earlobe with your finger and whisper to her over and over and over that "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay - ~ Jared Young

I cry out and fall to my knees, unable to go on, weeping for the dead, weeping for the cruelties, and a whisper calls to me from far away, You are strong, Stronger than your pain, Stronger than your grief, Stronger than them. And I force myself to my feet again. ~ Mary E. Pearson