A Quote by Vernor Vinge
The voice was gentle, like a scalpel petting the short hairs of your throat.
Related Quotes
In the Gospels, we are reminded, 'The very hairs of your head are all numbered.' And your numbered hairs, like your numbered days, recede daily.
I don't know whether we will find ourselves in the cross hairs, pulled by the short hairs, or just trying to find the next inane hairstyle. But change is coming; it is inevitable. It is as steady and reliable as a ticking clock.
If you can sing, you never lose your voice. If you don't know how to sing, your voice goes away because you sing from your throat.
Gray hairs are signs of wisdom if you hold your tongue, speak and they are but hairs, as in the young.
If you've ever sang in falsetto, you know that your throat is between your voice and your mouth. In a standard voice, you sing from your belly. And when you sing in a falsetto, you're blocking that. It gives it a filter. It gives it a character. It's less revealing.
Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat; Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the best; Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
But what I would like to say is that the spiritual life is a life in which you gradually learn to listen to a voice that says something else, that says, "You are the beloved and on you my favour rests."... I want you to hear that voice. It is not a very loud voice because it is an intimate voice. It comes from a very deep place. It is soft and gentle. I want you to gradually hear that voice. We both have to hear that voice and to claim for ourselves that that voice speaks the truth, our truth. It tells us who we are.
The voice of the Spirit is as gentle as a zephyr, so gentle that unless you are living in perfect communion with God, you never hear it.
Voice is not just the sound that comes from your throat, but the feelings that come from your words.
It [my vocal] didn't sound like what I wanted to hear; the vibrato isn't what I liked anymore. So I got myself to an ear, nose and throat guy who does a lot of work with singers, and I was hoping there was a big wart on my vocal cords or something and they could scrape it off and I could have the voice I wanted. But he said, "No, for 71, that's your voice."
You'd have a good voice, if it ever came out of your throat.
You'd have a good voice, if it ever came out of your throat
Write like you write, like you can't help but write, and your voice will become yours and yours alone. It'll take time but it'll happen as long as you let it. Own your voice, for your voice is your own. Once you know where your voice lives, you no longer have to worry so much about being derivative.
You feel it's not real when people are, like, petting your back all the time.
I like to make my voice sound like a piece of tin that's been stuck on the side of a chair, lifted up as far as it would go and then let to spring - "doooiiinng." I like to make it into a piece of metal from time to time and I can do it, both with the movements in my throat and with, uh, my little toys... So I like to take it beyond just a voice, more into the realms of a weapon.
He’s speaking in the tone of voice that everyone uses when they’re about to break you apart. Gentle—kind, even—like they can make the news sound better just by speaking in a lullaby voice.
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