#listen

The inability to listen and to depict in the countenance what others have said has spoiled many a good actress. ↗

— Julia Marlowe

#countenance #depict #good #inability #listen

I thought that my life would be spent working in a bookstore, teaching community college, and making music in my spare time that no one would be willing to listen to. ↗

— Moby

#college #community #community college #i #life

You see young people, or kids, and they're fascinated by the way people talk. And that's great. But eventually you get to the point where you think, 'You know what? I don't care how you talk, I'm just listening to what you're saying.' ↗

— Chris Morris

#eventually #fascinated #get #great #how

It's so funny because I listen to songs that I recorded that I didn't really know anything about at the time. Later on I'm starting to feel the songs. Sing them first, feel them later. ↗

— Tanya Tucker

#anything #because #feel #first #funny

Because this is what happens when you try to run from the past. it doesn't just catch up: it overtakes, blotting out the future, the landscape, the very sky, until there is no path left except that which leads through it, the only one that can ever get you home. ↗

— Sarah Dessen

#sarah-dessen #running

You always rebel what your parents want you to listen to. ↗

— Keifer Thompson

#listen #parents #rebel #want #you

Nature's silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block. The Chiense say that we live in the world of ten thousand things. Each of the ten thousand things cries out to us precisely nothing. ↗

— Annie Dillard

#listening #nature #life

If you'd just learn to do as I say from the beginning, I wouldn't have to follow up your errors with reproving smirks and repeated 'I told you so's. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#listening #richelle #richelle-goodrich #humor

It's not at all hard to understand a person; it's only hard to listen without bias. ↗

— Criss Jami

#bias #compassion #comprehension #discernment #fear

Song of myself Now I will do nothing but listen, To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it. I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals, I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice, I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following, Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night, Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of work-people at their meals, The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick, The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing a death-sentence, The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves, the refrain of the anchor-lifters, The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streaking engines and hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and color'd lights, The steam-whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars, The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching two and two, (They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin.) I hear the violoncello, ('tis the young man's heart's complaint,) I hear the key'd cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears, It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast. I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music--this suits me. ↗

— Walt Whitman

#music #noises #sounds #death