#list

An intellectual snob is someone who can listen to the William Tell Overture and not think of The Lone Ranger. ↗

— Dan Rather

#listen #lone #lone ranger #overture #ranger

The truth was, she found it hard to look at the man. It was like gazing at the sun. ↗

— Catherine LaRoche

#catherine-laroche #master-of-love #love

Love isn't relevant once things are really bad. They say love makes the world go round-but it doesn't, you know. Love is a luxury, and you indulge in it when things are OK. As soon as they are bad-really bad-there just isn't a place for it anymore-no place where there could be room for it ↗

— Celia Fremlin

#listening-in-the-dusk #love

The Listeners by Walter De La Mare 'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses Of the forest's ferny floor: And a bird flew up out of the turret, Above the Traveller's head And he smote upon the door again a second time; 'Is there anybody there?' he said. But no one descended to the Traveller; No head from the leaf-fringed sill Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken By the lonely Traveller's call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness, Their stillness answering his cry, While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf, 'Neath the starred and leafy sky; For he suddenly smote on the door, even Louder, and lifted his head:- 'Tell them I came, and no one answered, That I kept my word,' he said. Never the least stir made the listeners, Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house From the one man left awake: Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward, When the plunging hoofs were gone. The Listeners by Walter De La Mare ↗

— Walter de La Mare

#men

I hate the world and almost all the people in it. I hate the Labour Congress and the journalists who send men to be slaughtered, and the fathers who feel a smug pride when their sons are killed, and even the pacifists who keep saying human nature is essentially good, in spite of all the daily proofs to the contrary. I hate the planet and the human race—I am ashamed to belong to such a species. ↗

— Bertrand Russell

#pacifists #patriotism #war #men

An Individualist is a man who lives for his own sake and by his own mind; he neither sacrifices himself to others nor sacrifices others to himself; he deals with men as a trader - not as a looter; as a producer - not as a Attila. ↗

— Ayn Rand

#trader #men

Inner guidance is heard like soft music in the night by those who have learned to listen. ↗

— Vernon Howard

#guidance #inner-guidance #listening #self-awareness #music

Bailey, do you ever hear music in your head ? You know, like even when there's none playing. ↗

— J.J Howard

#playlist #music

I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony. ↗

— Gustave Flaubert

#harmony #language #listening #nature #waves

When you're young, you say what you feel. When you're adult, you speak what you think. When you grow old, you listen to what nature says. ↗

— Toba Beta

#feel #listen #old #think #young