A Quote by Willa Cather

In a few hours one could cover that incalculable distance; from the winter country and homely neighbours, to the city where the air trembled like a tuning-fork with unimaginable possibilities.
Vienna, to me it was the tuning fork for the entire world. Saying the word Vienna was like striking a tuning fork and then listening to find what tone it called forth in the person I was talking to. It was how I tested people. If there was no response, this was not the kind of person I liked. Vienna wasn't just a city, it was a tone that either one carries forever in one's soul or one does not. It was the most beautiful thing in my life. I was poor, but I was not alone, because I had a friend.
The sky was of the deepest blue, with a few white, fleecy clouds drifting lazily across it, and the air was filled with the low drone of insects or with a sudden sharper note as bee or bluefly shot past with its quivering, long-drawn hum, like an insect tuning-fork.
Intention appears to be something akin to a tuning fork, causing the tuning forks of other things in the universe to resonate at the same frequency
Personal and mobile computing, long-distance communications, energy storage, and air travel are just a few of the things that have been democratized by technology, creating new possibilities for billions of people.
For a smart material to be able to send out a more complex signal it needs to be nonlinear. If you hit a tuning fork twice as hard it will ring twice as loud but still at the same frequency. That's a linear response. If you hit a person twice as hard they're unlikely just to shout twice as loud. That property lets you learn more about the person than the tuning fork.
As I holed up in the City of Angels, I was also aware of a comforting feeling of anonymity. In the world's biggest third-class city I could pass unnoticed. I spoke the language. I was familiar with the currency. I could drink the water. I could almost breathe the air, late April air, compounded of interesting hydrocarbons.
I become like a tuning fork to the information that is coming through me, in shamanism they call it being the 'hollow reed'.
I'm a tuning fork, tense and twanging all the time.
I always want to be in love, always. It's like being a tuning fork.
Anything you make has its own wavelength and its own sound. It's like a tuning fork, until the things that resonate are correct for it.
I think Chicago is the best city in the country, hands down, but I don't like the winter there anymore.
What, I sometimes wonder, would it be like if I lived in a country where winter is a matter of a few chilly days and a few weeks' rain; where the sun is never far away, and the flowers bloom all year long?
The life of expression is the tuning fork by which we find our way to the sacred.
I'm still not certain on the nature of the spork, whether it is a fork and a spoon, or a fork and a knife mixed together, or maybe a fork and a fork on top. Life is full of mysteries yeah man
Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet and to repulse it.
So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!