#hearing

I thank Heaven every summer's day of my life, that my lot was humbly cast within the hearing of romping brooks, and beneath the shadow of oaks. ↗

— Donald G. Mitchell

#brooks #cast #day #every #hearing

Have you ever heard a blindfolded octopus unwrap a cellophane-covered bathtub? ↗

— Norton Juster

#bathtub #fantasy #fiction #hearing #kids

The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain. ↗

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

#voice #rain

When I hear your name, I involuntarily clench my butt cheeks. Is that love? I don’t know—I’m not Nicholas Sparks.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#clench #hear #hearing #knowledge #listen

We hear only our own voices, still echoes returning to our emptiness. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#echoes #emptiness #hear #hearing #literature

...it's merely writing, but you have to adjust your ear – I speak quietly – I sob – I whisper ... ↗

— John Geddes

#writing-advice #writing-advice

Jim had spent most of his life alone. The solitary nature of his disability and the constant moving had made it difficult for him to make friends. With his mother’s death, his last connection to a person was severed. He existed in Broughton like a ghost, doing his odd jobs, too silent for anyone to notice. ↗

— Bonnie Dee

#bonnie-dee #jim #death

When he finally broke off the kiss and moved his lips to her neck, then her breast again, sucking her nipples back to hard peaks, Catherine broke from her trance. “No. I really must go. We haven’t time to do this again.” She pushed against his restraining hands and wiggled beneath his body. “Let me up now.” He pulled away from her neck and looked up, his eyes as poignant as a spoken plea. Her heart wrenched and she wished she could spend the rest of the day with him, making love in their secret nest in the loft. She sighed. “Don’t give me puppy dog eyes. I’ve got to go. ↗

— Bonnie Dee

#bonnie-dee #catherine #jim #love

All of a sudden, she was there, breaking away from the little group of women and running toward him. She raced across the space between them and threw her arms around his neck. The force of her body knocked him back a few steps as she wrapped around him like a trumpet vine on a cornstalk. He regained his footing and snaked his arms around her, holding her close. His exhaustion disappeared in a moment, erased by the incredible fact that Catherine was in his arms right here on the street in front of half the town, lifting her face to kiss him. He couldn’t refuse her offer and bent his head to cover her soft lips with his. The heat and pressure of her mouth took away all the residual anxiety and fear still floating in him and filled him with wild elation instead. After several long minutes of feasting on her mouth like a starving man, he pulled away and his eyes opened. Her tear-streaked face filled his vision. His stomach dropped. Why was she crying? What had happened to her? He was aware of the crowd of people around them. Glancing up, he saw many eyes focused on him and Catherine, mouths talking, expressions of surprise and shock. He let go of her and stepped back, although it was far too late to protect her reputation. Catherine cupped his face, drawing his attention back to her, and her lips were moving. “…don’t you? Never again!” She frowned and signed as she spoke. “Never! Understand? I love you.” Her graceful hands made the love sign, which looked as though she was offering her heart to him. At last Jim realized she was upset with him for putting himself in danger. If he’d doubted that she cared, those doubts evaporated under the force of her fury. He nodded and promised. ↗

— Bonnie Dee

#bonnie-dee #catherine #jim #love

A love of classical music is only partially a natural response to hearing the works performed, it also must come about by a decision to listen carefully, to pay close attention, a decision inevitably motivated by the cultural and social prestige of the art. ↗

— Charles Rosen

#also #art #attention #carefully #classical