Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Hearkened. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Hearkened Quotes And Sayings by 86 Authors including George Macdonald,Auliq Ice,Wendell Berry,Friedrich Nietzsche,Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington for you to enjoy and share.
But words are vain; reject them all
They utter but a feeble part:
Hear thou the depths from which they call,
The voiceless longing of my heart.
To every whisper if you listen carefully, you will hear or fail to hear something.
O Thou, Far off and here, whole and broken, Who in necessity and in bounty wait, Whose truth is light and dark, mute though spoken, By Thy wide grace show me Thy narrow gate.
Awake and listen, you that are lonely! From the future come winds with stealthy wings, and to subtle ears good tidings are proclaimed.
Listeners beware, for ye are doomed never to hear good of yourselves.
Awaken my spirit.
With thunder and heavenly fireworks must one speak to indolent and somnolent senses. But beauty's voice speaketh gently: it appealeth only to the most awakened souls
We can hear your voice
We can hear it through the songs of praise
We can hear it through the birds
We can hear it through the wind
We can hear your voice in our hearts
We can hear your voice in our minds
We can hear you through everyhing
There are persons who can speak no more, whose very names have vanished. Yet a name excised from the verge where it once lived still casts its sound on all who sleep there and enters their throats.
O, believe, as thou livest, that every sound that is spoken over the round world, which thou oughtest to hear, will vibrate on thine ear!
He is heard only when we hope to hear Him, and if, thinking our hope to be fulfilled, we cease to speak, His silence ceases to be vivid and becomes dead, even though we recharge it with the echo of our own emotional noise.
All over the sky a sacred voice is calling your name.
What you listen in heart, are echoes of the past.
What you write today, will be echoed in the future.
If we hearken to counsel, we shall be the best people in the world; we shall be as a bright light set upon a hill, that cannot be hid, or like a candle upon a candlestick.
We may stumble, but always there is that eternal voice, forever whispering within our ear, that thing which causes the eternal quest, that thing which forever sings and sings.
Where shall the word be found, where will the word Resound?
He spoke in the hoarse, cadenced tones of a lifelong teller of tales - one of those divine fools born to merge memory and mendacity into dreams as airily gorgeous as cobwebs string with drops of dew.
For months I heard whispers and though it had seemed that they were carried to me on the wind, they were really coming from inside my own head.
The heart's words fall back unheard from Wisdom's throne.
To hear, one must be silent.
O Lord, Thy Word, revive my soul.
Faithfully I cherish the truth that has been spoken as I listen intensly to his enchanting phrase holding dear the words that speak everlasting content
Ye come and go incessant; we remain Safe in the hallowed quiets of the past; Be reverent, ye who flit and are forgot, Of faith so nobly realized as this.
There's a natural mystic blowing through the air. If you listen carefully now, you will hear.
Let it Be,
Let it Be,
Let it Be,
Let it Be,
Whisper words of wisdom,
Let it Be.
Still, small heavenly voices penetrate the heart with their gentle, convincing declarations ... Most often, hope, encouragement, and direction come from a soft, piercing voice. Small voices are heard only by those who are willing to listen.
All the people who'd brought me here, past and present, ancient and young, legend and life and lore, I channeled. I welcomed them into my infinite heart, alongside the ghosts, the shadows, the ache I'd always carry. I made their strength mine, a part of me. My inspiration. My voice.
A voice alone in the wilderness is a beautiful thing.
May the Lord protect me as the world gets hectic. My voice projected, my life reflected.
The living tongue that tells the word, the living ear that hears it, bind and bond us in the communion we long for in the silence of our inner solitude.
There is a craft and a power in listening.
Each of you are a voice. Together we are a choir, a powerful choir of change that circles the globe with love.
I was summoned by my Country, whose voice I can never hear but with veneration and love.
Young men, hear an old man to whom old men hearkened when he was young.
The longing of my heart is to make known my glorious Redeemer to those who have never heard.
Hark, the glad sound! The Saviour comes, The Saviour promised long; Let every heart exult with joy, And every voice be song!
Church bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood, The land of spices; something understood.
Redefined soul anew, bow now with pride. Reborn from the darkness, a man now wise.
I whisper like the sea in the horse's ear.
The voice of the special rebels and prophets, recommending discontent, should, as I have said, sound now and then suddenly, like a trumpet. But the voices of the saints and sages, recommending contentment, should sound unceasingly, like the sea.
Thou knowest that my voice is sweet, That is if thou dost hear; And I am moulded in a form Somewhat below the mean.
Sit down awhile; And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story What we have two nights seen.
Hear twice before you speak once.
The soul and eternity of one man depends upon the voice of another
I have listened and I have been quiet all my life. But now I will speak.
I am your own voice echoing off the walls of God
God's word is exciting, so electric, so energizing-
Now all is dashed wrong; by the fool's craving to hear evil of self, that haunts some people like a demon!
Oh to be my verse an answering gleam from higher radiance caught
I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.
Who is so deafe, as he that will not hear?
Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear, with ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear ...
The speech of my heart will be carried on in murmurings of a song.
I sought to hear the voice of God and climbed the topmost steeple, but God declared: Go down again - I dwell among the people.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter
Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed; Once I went back when a good monarch prayed; Mortals, howe'er we grieve, howe'er deplore, The flying shadow will return no more.
The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound, Shall thro' the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground.
Give every man thy ear but few thy voice.
Friendth, Romanth, countrymen, lend me your earsth.
Stop listening for a voice and start looking for a verse. He's already spoken.
Since I was cut from the reedbed I have made this crying sound. Anyone separated from someone he loves understands what I say. Anyone pulled from a Source longs to go back.
Hearing the word is the devout receiving of the will of God.
A voice that had traversed the centuries, so heavy it broke what it touched, so heavy I feared it would ring in me with eternal resonance, a voice rusty with the sound of curses and the hoarse cries that issue from the delta in the last paroxysm of orgasm.
My words are a whisper, your deafness a shout.
Moments cast rivulets,
Others eyes see.
Faith awaits,
From a once dormant state,
Inside you, inside me.
My blood is alive with many voices telling me I am made of longing.
Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number-
Shake your chains to earth like
dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you
Ye are many-they are few.
Love's voice reverberates with forgiveness across the room of our heart
The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air; And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.
Look up, and lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh.
For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be.
Listen if you want to be heard
Everlasting farewells! and again, and yet again reverberated everlasting farewells!
The very voices of the night, sounding like the moan of the tempest, may turn out to be the disguised yet tender voices of God, calling away from all earthly footsteps, to mount with greater singleness of eye and ardor of aim the alone ladder of safety and peace upward, onward, heavenward, homeward.
Then I will not repine
Knowing that bird of mine
Though flown shall in a distant tree
Bright melody for me
Return.
Every sight and sound inspiring, leading one far out of himself, yet feeding and building up his individuality.
Unlike seeing, where one can look away, one cannot 'hear away' but must listen ... hearing implies already belonging together in such a manner that one is claimed by what is being said.
If with the tongues of men and of messengers I speak, and have not love, I have become brass sounding, or a cymbal tinkling;
5Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, And the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. 6Then the lame shall leap like a deer, And the tongue of the dumb sing.
[ ... ] and the barred owl calls from the well of my mind,
more echo than thought, as it fades through the wind
and flickers away to the silence beyond
like that voice, in myself, of another.
Poetry is meant to be heard.
though my voice is eager to tune to marches,
toady to wine and city...
I go and it is done. The bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven or to hell.
The true voice is a good spirit.
This one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms.
Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live. ISAIAH 55:3
Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear
Nothing is more unaccountable than the spell that often lurks in a spoken word. A thought may be present to the mind, and two minds conscious of the same thought, but as long as it remains unspoken their familiar talk flows quietly over the hidden idea.
Earth sounds my wisdom, and high heaven my fame.
And now, beloved, through the crackling sea
we return like blind birds
Voices
Voices in my head,
Chanting, 'Kisses. Bread.
Prove yourself. Fight. Shove.
Learn. Earn. Look for love',
Drown a lesser voice,
Silent now of choice:
'Breathe in peace, and be
Still, for once, like me'.
I hear a voice you cannot hear, which says I must not stay; I see a hand you cannot see, which beckons me away.
What we do reverberates through the heavens and into eternity.
Those who cannot hear an angry shout may strain to hear a whisper.
But a word once spoken who can recapture it?
How now, spirit! Whither wander you?
Words are seeds; you are what you've heard
I have been in howling storms in which a shout is reduced to a whisper, moved across the sea's featureless face in a gray fog that does not yield to human eyes.
There are, for example, so many kinds of tongues in this world; and none is without voice. If then I know not the power of the voice, I shall be to him to whom I speak a barbarian; and he that speaketh, a barbarian to me.