#voice

John the Baptist was supposed to point the way to the Christ. He was just the voice, not the Messiah. So everybody's calling has dignity to it and God seems to know better than we do what is in us that needs to be called forth. ↗

— James Green Somerville

#better #called #calling #christ #dignity

Further, for once, I like the idea that people who think I'm a constant voice for the furthering of the imagination have to see that interest in a more materialistic fashion. ↗

— Peter Sotos

#fashion #further #furthering #i #idea

I shall now proceed to my own experience, which hath truly convinced me, the Lord is awakened as one out of sleep; and the voice of the Lord will shake terribly the earth. ↗

— Joanna Southcott

#convinced #earth #experience #hath #i

I love Jessica Simpson. I love her voice. She's amazing. ↗

— Britney Spears

#her #i #i love #jessica #jessica simpson

If you're a singer you lose your voice. A baseball player loses his arm. A writer gets more knowledge, and if he's good, the older he gets, the better he writes. ↗

— Mickey Spillane

#ball player #baseball #baseball player #better #gets

A man like Wilde was not free to live out of the closet as a homosexual, and women in general were not able to be truly themselves; there was no place for a woman's voice to be heard or for her to express her sexuality. ↗

— Marisa Tomei

#closet #express #free #general #heard

The basic notion was the idea that the loudspeaker should have a voice which was unique and not just an instrument of reproduction, but an instrument unto itself. ↗

— David Tudor

#idea #instrument #itself #just #notion

Acting manifested as the primary focus over the years but now I am stirring the pot once again with my voice. ↗

— Janine Turner

#again #am #focus #i #i am

I was receiving at least ninety-nine incredible, positive, and life-changing responses for every negative or abusive one, yet I couldn’t stop looking at the one percent. I couldn’t get them out of my mind. I let them kill my excitement. I let them destroy my love for what I was doing. I let them shut me down. I let them bully me into changing the way I did things around here. I almost stopped. I almost gave up. I almost quit writing. But every time, I remembered my dad. He taught me better than that. And I forced myself to be excited again. I forced myself to see the goal and vision of why I was excited in the first place. I forced myself to start skipping over the negative replies and start diving into the loving ones. ↗

— Dan Pearce

#negativity #peer-pressure #public-figures #public-opinion #respond

I sat against one of the house’s clay walls. The kinship I felt suddenly for the old land... it surprised me. I’d been gone long enough to forget and be forgotten. I had a home in a land that might as well be in another galaxy to the people sleeping on the other side of the wall I leaned against. I thought I had forgotten about this land. But I hadn’t. And, under the bony glow of a halfmoon, I sensed Afghanistan humming under my feet. Maybe Afghanistan hadn’t forgotten me either. I looked westward and marveled that, somewhere over those mountains, Kabul still existed. It really existed, not just as an old memory, or as the heading of an AP story on page 15 of the San Francisco Chronicle. Somewhere over those mountains in the west slept the city where my harelipped brother and I had run kites. Somewhere over there, the blindfolded man from my dream had died a needless death. Once, over those mountains, I had made a choice. And now, a quarter of a century later, that choice had landed me right back on this soil. ↗

— Khaled Hosseini

#land #the-voice-of-the-blood #death