#listen

I make money using my brains and lose money listening to my heart. But in the long run my books balance pretty well. ↗

— Kate Seredy

#books #brains #heart #i #listening

What have we been doing all these centuries but trying to call God back to the mountain, or, failing that, raise a peep out of anything that isn't us? What is the difference between a cathedral and a physics lab? Are not they both saying: Hello? We spy on whales and on interstellar radio objects; we starve ourselves and pray till we're blue. ↗

— Annie Dillard

#life #listening #nature #life

It's risky most of the time, but its better to listen to your heart. ↗

— Jonathan Anthony Burkett

#burkett #friends #girlfriend #heart #heartbreak

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

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 said very little. I knew that for the time being I was the open air, the place to put the words, not a real interlocutor. And then, ekthout a transition of any kind, she began to tell me .... {p. 134} ↗

— Siri Hustvedt

#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

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