#sound

I was left with an urge to make the guitar sound like things it shouldn't be able to sound like. ↗

— Adrian Belew

#guitar #i #left #like #make

From here it sounds great to say we'll all get together soon, but all I know is this: you can call me fifty days or fifty years from now and I'll be glad to see you. ↗

— Richard Hooker

#days #fifty #get #get together #glad

It's hard to know exactly what it sounds like to me. I'm in the studio and I write it. and that's it. ↗

— Nuno Bettencourt

#hard #i #i write #know #like

The path of sound credence is through the thick forest of skepticism. ↗

— George Jean Nathan

#forest #path #skepticism #sound #thick

We wanted to guide the musicians, so we could create our own sound. We would never let the band just go in and play the chord sheets. We were very focused on what we had in mind for these productions. ↗

— Lamont Dozier

#chord #could #create #focused #go

Frankly, I never had any intense desire to go to India. I know that sounds a bit strange, but it just never was someplace I had a burning desire to visit. ↗

— Judi Dench

#bit #burning #burning desire #desire #frankly

I've been acting for a long time now, but as narcissistic as this sounds - and I don't mean it to sound - every time I see my name up there, there is real sense of pride. ↗

— Ryan Kwanten

#been #every #every time #i #i see

Hip Nip just sounds groovy. A drummer laid it on me. ↗

— Pat Morita

#groovy #hip #just #laid #me

I had once been splintered into a million beings and objects. Today I am one, tomorrow I shall splinter again. And thus everything in the world decants and modulates. That day I was on the crest of a wave. I knew that all my surroundings were notes of one and the same harmony, knew - secretly - the source and the inevitable resolution of the sounds assembled for an instant, and the new chord that would be engendered by each of the dispersing notes. My soul's musical ear knew and comprehended everything. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#music

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