A Quote by Laurie Hernandez

When I perform and the crowd is cheering, there's a ringing noise in my head. I'm just zoned in, and even though I know there are people watching me, all I hear is this ringing inside of me.
My bones are ringing the way sometimes people say their ears are ringing, I'm so tired.
I'm worried that a few people are confusing the ringing of a church bell with the ringing of a cash register, .. When I hear about leaders of charities being provided a $300,000 Bentley to drive around in, my fear is that it's the taxpayers who subsidize this charity who are really being taken for a ride.
The thing I wasn't prepared for was when I wasn't in Motley Crue anymore. 'Cause as much as my phone was ringing, it stopped ringing.
I know my head isn't screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closest is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them.
Sometimes when people get success they forget about the people that pointed them there or championed them into this position. I pride myself on really understanding. I wouldn't even call it keeping it real. I just call it keeping it me. When they tell me, "You're doing what you're supposed to do," it makes me go ten times even harder, because I know that there are people on the sidelines and they're watching me. They're cheering for me. I want to be the best me I could possibly be when it comes to them.
Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes; then little strength rings out the doleful knell.
In the beginning, everybody that gets to work with me, thinks I'm nice. But three weeks later, they hear a bell ringing. Then they realise I meant everything I said during that first week. It's not my fault people are not taking me serious from the first moment.
I don't know what caused my tinnitus, but I started to become aware of a very low ringing noise in my right ear, which is now constantly there.
In the beginning, everybody that gets to work with me, thinks Im nice. But three weeks later, they hear a bell ringing. Then they realise I meant everything I said during that first week. Its not my fault people are not taking me serious from the first moment.
Tess, Tess, Tessa. Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn’t it—a heart ringing? But when you touch me, that is what it is like, as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy.
I never hear parents exclaim impatiently, "Children, you must no make so much noise," that I do not think how soon the time may come when, beside the vacant seat, those parents would give all the world, could they hear once more the ringing laughter which once so disturbed them.
Forgiveness to letting go of a bell rope. If you have ever seen a country church with a bell in the steeple, you will remember that to get the bell ringing you have to tug awhile. Once it has begun to ring, you merely maintain the momentum. As long as you keep pulling, the bell keeps ringing. Forgiveness is letting go of the rope. It is just that simple. But when you do so, the bell keeps ringing. Momentum is still at work. However, if you keep your hands off the rope, the bell will begin to slow and eventually stop.
I definitely get pumped up when I hear a crowd cheering for me.
I use the traditional phone noise that's built into iOS. I like an actual ringing sound.
And that's my honour, that's what my goal is, to always keep my mum's name ringing, because I know what sacrifices she went through for me.
Why do I feel so exercised about what we think of the people of the Middle Ages? ... I guess it's because so many of their voices are ringing vibrantly in my ears - Chaucer's, Boccaccio's, Henry Knighton's, Thomas Walsingham's. Froissart's, Jean Creton's... writers and contemporary historians of the period who seem to me just as individual, just as alive as we are today. We need to get to know these folk better in order to know who we are ourselves.
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