Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Rumblings. 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 Rumblings Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including K. Webster,Charles M. Schulz,William Spencer,Lawrence Block,Ludwig Van Beethoven for you to enjoy and share.
I'm able to silence those roars. Turn them into whispers.
I can hear my heart beating. I can hear my stomach growling. I can hear my teeth grinding and my joints creaking. My body's so noisy, I can't sleep.
How noiseless falls the foot of time!
I heard the pitter patter of little old feet.
Tones sound, and roar and storm about me until I have set them down in notes.
You held me down, but I got up
Hey!
Alrighty brushing off the dust
You hear my voice
You hear that sound
Like thunder gonna shake the ground
-Roar
Another growl came, and then very heavy footsteps - like T-rex-shaking-the-water-cup-jurassic-park-style heavy foot steps.
In the new quiet I heard the sea as if my ears were laid against the ocean floor. I could hear everything. The rumbling earthquake of a ship and spider crabs moving between weeds.
Wilds whisper, yet I long for their roar.
A shrieking battle cry echoed on the wind, a spine-tingling scream that sounded like the baying of the wolves closing in on their prey.
howling alternately
Around thrones the thunder rolls.
The noise resembles the roar of heavy, distant surf. Standing on the stirring ice one can imagine it is disturbed by the breathing and tossing of a mighty giant below.
For tolls too briefly the sounds of mercy ... In fear we ponder the use of thunder for peace
In our house, all you hear is groaning.
I can hear the roar of women's silence
Listen: the dark we've only ever imagined now audible, thrumming,
marbled with static like gristly meat. a chorus of engines churns.
silence taunts: a dare. everything that disappears
disappears as if returning somewhere.
The stillness consequent on the cessation of the rumbling and labouring of the coach, added to the stillness of the night, made it very quiet indeed. The panting of the horses communicated a tremulous motion
A sound waiting to be a word.
Just the sounds of an old building settling, I tell myself . . . but I wonder.
Clang Clang Rattle Bing Bang, Gonna make my noise all day!
the deep moans round with many voices.
His bones began to fill with sounds
The reckoning is how we walk into our story; the rumble is where we own it. The goal of the rumble is to get honest about the stories we're making up about our struggles, to revisit, challenge, and reality-check these narratives.
Whether I pound or am being pounded, all the same there will be moaning!
Was on the point of crying at her, 'Don't you hear them?' The dusk was repeating them in a persistent whisper all around us, in a whisper that seemed to swell menacingly like the
The sloshing of their hooves in the paddy field that I heard thirty yards away, my car door open for the breeze, the haunting sound I was caught within as if creatures of magnificence were undressing and removing their wings
SILENCE. The most loaded sound in human history.
And then a low and powerful sound rumbles thru the sky, like some giant, deep horn.
A sound God would make when he wanted yer attenshun.
A great thunderstorm of sound gushed from the walls. Music bombarded him at such an immense volume that his bones were almost shaken from their tendons; he felt his jaw vibrate, his eyes wobble in his head.
I love it when he whispers. But, this time, he doesn't whisper. He roars.
Voices beyond my ability to measure suddenly hushing all at once.
I'm making a lot of noise as I walk.
We live in the midst of a creation that is groaning.
When I am silent, I have thunder hidden inside.
The boom, the bang, the flint and fuss.
Sometimes it's just silent ... No sound at all.
'Does that scare you?'
Chad nods.
'Why?' asks his father.
'It's like something's waiting.
It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes,/rising.
Old buildings whisper to us in the creaking of floorboards and rattling of windowpanes.
All the time buzzing ... so-called ... in the ears ... though of course actually ... not in the ears at all ... in the skull ... dull roar in the skull ...
In that valley the train shrieks echo like souls on hooks.
Hades cracked his knuckles on each hand, and the noise was like gunpowder caps exploding in the silence. "First dish duty," he mumbled to himself, "now possessed cowboys. This just isn't my night.
There are things that go bump in the night
There was no near sound - no steam-engine at work with beat and pant - no click of machinery, or mingling and clashing of many sharp voices; but far away, the ominous gathering roar, deep-clamouring.
If you must make a noise, make it quietly.
snakelike hiss, undulating,
A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
...buzzing with the kind of commanding energy that felled trees and whistled teakettles..
In these silences something may rise
The air was full of sound, a defenning and confusing conflict of noises (...)
Making a noise in this world making a noise in this world you can bet your ass, I won't go quietly making a noise in this world.
There's an uncomfortable silence, crackling with tension, unsaid words and vehement intensity.
Fuck that noise.
I heard words
and words full
of holes
aching.
Like a bellowing beast, he howled her name, his raspy wails riding the gales like a ship on a roiling sea.
Can you feel it? Something just changed. I believe that's the sound the world makes when it pisses itself.
One person's roar is another's whine, just as one person's music is another's unendurable noise.
When the world stilled again, ominous silence reigned. Scratch that, not silence exactly. The van's radiator hissed, and someone was groaning. Oh, right. That was me.
the mute protest in your own bones
There was a sound in the background like a distant sheep coughing gently on a mountainside. Jeeves sailing into action.
Sounds of life and movement, people getting ready and people giving up, the sound of hope and the sound of hanging on, and behind them all, the quiet, deadly ticking of a thousand hungry clocks ...
Echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.
When she'd finally cranked up her favorite Godsmack CD in an effort to tune him out, he'd let out a roar that had rattled the windows in her car: By all that's holy, woman, what is that hideous noise? Cease and desist! A battlefield at full charge could be no more cacophonous!
I love a visceral sound, the kind that hits you in the belly.
Good God! What in the hell was that noise?" The man in front of them turned in his seat. "That's what I've been asking myself this half hour and then some
Unexplained noises are best left unexplained.
Against the windows the storm comes dashing, Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing, The blue lightning flashes, The rapid hail clashes ... The thunder is rumbling And crashing and crumbling ...
Everyday objects shriek aloud.
and the crash of the thunder, and the booming of the mighty billows came through the damp oblivion even louder than before.
Know from the rivers in clefts and in crevices: those in small channels flow noisily, the great flow silent. Whatever's not full makes noise. Whatever is full is quiet.
The sound of a jet, an engine warming up, even the clopping of shod hooves on pavement brings on the ancient shudder, the dry mouth and vacant eye, the hot palms and the churn of stomach high up under the rib cage.
How silent the unbeating heart.
It came with the wind through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild and menacing.
The stream sings a subdued music, a scarcely audible lilt, faint and fluid syllables not quite said. It slips away into its future, where it already is, and flows steadily forth from up the canyon, a fountain of rumors from regions known to it and not to me.
In the early days, it was nearly omnipresent, a constant background noise, like the hum of traffic on a busy highway: the sound of a human being in pain.
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.
metal on metal screech outside. It sounded
In the meantime the groans changed into the protracted, thunderous roar by which all living creatures are struck with terror, and the nerves of people, who do not know what fear is, shake, just as the window-panes rattle from distant cannonading.
But the quiet grows and grows. Beautifully and unbearably.
One of them hissed-not the hiss of a cat, a long, steady tone-more like the hiss of air escaping the rubber raft that is all that lies between you and a dark sea full of sharks, the hiss of your life leaking out at the seams.
He came obediently, wailing, that slow hoarse sound that ships make, that seems to begin before the sound itself has started, seems to cease before the sound itself has stopped.
There is nothing more harrowing than a deadly hush with the feel of a great noise around it
Quiet as mice, quiet as the wind, quiet as the grave.
This is the echo of the approaching train in ears pressed to the rail.
A crack of lightning, an explosion of thunder, the sound of pounding rain.
The daemoniac rattle and wheeze of a blasphemous organ, choking and rumbling out the mockeries of hell in a cracked, sardonic bass.
The rumble of the life outside was like the sound of the sea which was rising gradually around her.
Trust in the inexhaustible character of the murmur.
pounding so hard he fancied he could hear it over
In the near distance he could hear the trundling sound of carriage wheels starting down the gravel drive.
A brief rustling that broke off short, as if startled at itself, then deadly silence, that agonising, watchful hush, fraught with its own betrayal, that stretched each minute to an excruciating eternity.
The thundering voice that wrings, in one dark, damning moment, crimes of years!
The Sound of battle fell upon my ear & heart all day yesterday
even after dark the cannon's insatiate roar continued ...
There's too many sounds in the world! The sounds of the earth are terrible! The roots squeezing and jostling one another through the clefts, and the crashing of the acorn from the oak. The cry of the little birdeen in under the silence of the hawk!
Thudding racket of the rock crushers pulverizing ore. The sound of the stamps in operation is the sound of money being made, and only two things will stop them - Christmas and tragedy.
There was a click. There was a noise like a partridge. There was a thud.
There was silence.
Trifling trouble find utterance; deeply felt pangs are silent.
loud laughter, phones ringing and the smell
Booming and yet muffled, croaking, like an amplified premature burial, it called out "Merriiiiinnnnnn!" And then the massive and shiveringly hollow jolt of a single sledgehammer blow against the bedroom wall. "God
Quietly ... softly, God taps on our tense shoulders with His love.