A Quote by Ronald Reagan

I spoke to ears that refused to hear. — © Ronald Reagan
I spoke to ears that refused to hear.
The walls have ears, ears that hear each little sound you make every time you stamp, throw a lamp.
It is raining and you can hear the pattern of the drops. You can hear it with your ears, or you can hear it out of that deep silence. If you hear it with complete silence of the mind, then the beauty of it is such that cannot be put into words or onto canvas, because that beauty is something beyond self-expression .
The surface of learning is hearing what your ears aren't prepared to hear, and the core of learning is hearing what your ears don't want to hear.
I tend to want to put my fingers over my ears and not hear all of that, not hear that there are so many fans.
Those who have ears to hear, will hear
I actually spoke to one of the heads of a studio, and he said I confuse middle America. Basically, when they see a black person, they see athlete, they see rapper, or they see criminal or something like that. And then when they hear a British accent, they hear posh, so they hear lawyer or doctor.
I went to a Turkish hairdresser, and they burned the hair off my ears with a lit taper. They just put the burning candle near your ears and you hear the hair being burned away. And the smell - urggh!
Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love. That inward beauty and invisible; Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move each part in me that were but sensible: Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, yet should I be in love by touching thee. 'Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, and that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, and nothing but the very smell were left me, yet would my love to thee be still as much; for from the stillitory of thy face excelling comes breath perfum'd that breedeth love by smelling.
My analyst refused to hear my dreams. This was years ago.
I remember my uncle, who was a jazz pianist, when we did Deep Purple 'In Rock,' he ran from the room screaming, holding his ears: 'I can't hear anything. I can't hear any instruments.' And I was rubbing my hands going, 'Great.'
Some things you hear with your ears. Others, you hear with your heart.
To read a poem is to hear it with our eyes; to hear it is to see it with our ears.
I have these huge, pointed ears. They're like three times the size of Orlando Bloom's ears. And I think he has ear envy, I love my ears.
And who are you, the proud Lord said that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And, mine are as long and sharp, my Lord as long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere, but now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear.
Millions of people have wrecked their lives in angry turmoil, because they refused to accept the worst; refused to try to improve upon it; refused to salvage what they could from the wreck. Instead of trying to reconstruct their fortunes, they engaged in a bitter and "violent contest with experience"- and ended up victims of that brooding fixation known as melancholia.
My own words, when I am at work on a story, I hear too as they go, in the same voice that I hear when I read in books. When I write and the sound of it comes back to my ears, then I act to make changes. I have always trusted this voice.
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