Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Throaty. 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 Throaty Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including Diana Abu-Jaber,Paula Mclain,Mimi Jean Pamfiloff,Nayyirah Waheed,Nora Roberts for you to enjoy and share.
Cold, like swallowed tears.
swallowed. My ears felt as if
Is there any spot on his body that isn't hard? Tonsils? Kidneys? Oh! His tongue ... silky little devil.
Some words build houses in your throat. and they live there, content and on fire.
The air scored his throat on each breath like crushed glass.
I have as many pictures of my vocal cords as I do of my children. I have a great ear, nose and throat doctor, and we look at them - if there's some redness, maybe I'll take a little time off.
His ears and nose were raspberry red, and when he spoke, a cloud of vapor billowed from his mouth. I wanted to tell him to cover his ears, immediately felt like my mother, and didn't. He's a big boy. If his lobes crack off, he'll deal with it.
Lips, like roses dropping myrrh.
It's like an angel crying on your tongue.
I have a pretty lousy voice.
thick negroid lips
Inside her head or out in the desert was the same, and the air inside her throat was very dry to keep from crying and her neck sore from forcing herself not to look down, not to look back.
Throat and eyes and made her cough constantly.
Singers are experts at keeping things from dripping on their throats. Believe me, they're experts.
I don't like the sound of my voice.
a sour lozenge on my tongue.
It's a jagged thing in my throat, how much I miss her.
Her voice is furry and sharp, like a blanket made of needles.
Prickly
When I'm feeling
porcupine-y,
I get nasty,
I get whiny.
Stay away or
I might stick you.
My sharp words are
quills to prick you.
All well - from the neck down.Neck-- Aby Warburg
Thunder's throat tightened.
It was as if his whole life had suddenly lodged in his throat, a raw bite he could neither spit out nor swallow.
Rank, rump-fed harpy.
purple tongue, and that the whitish hair that
I do a lot of vocal hygiene.
You have no tongue yet you won't shut up
When she went back to the telephone Hely's breath, on the other end, was ragged and secretive.
A sound waiting to be a word.
But always in the back of your throat is this scream, barely suppressed.
His voice was low, charged with unspeakable adjectives.
My voice sounds like I have a cold, all the mucus from my crying lodged in my nose. A train, Mama said. Camille came, and the wind sounded like trains.
Her voice was husky, vibrating, slightly flat, coming in just under each note like a saucer under a cup.
Today Mrs. Beasley began by clearing her throat. Again, this isn't a worrisome sign. Librarians are not overly talkative so our throats can get froggy from lack of use.
Tongue; well that's a wery good thing when it an't a woman.
You've got a nice neck for choking.
Where did you learn to do that?"
"Los Angeles High School of Performing Arts," I said. "They taught me how to open my throat to sing. Then Kevin Wainwright taught me how to put his dick down it."
He laughed. "I'd like to thank LA Unified and Kevin Whatever for this moment.
What a voice. Deep, throaty, but not in a sexy way. In a haunted way. A voice full of heartbreak and ghosts.
I won't go back, I won't go home,
'Cause in this place, the dead still roam,
'Cause this time, Whiskey Bayou won't let me go.
I have a perfect cure for a sore throat: cut it.
His voice was oddly and beautifully rough-cut, as some small boys' voices are. Each of his phrasings was rather like a little ancient island, inundated by a miniature sea of whiskey.
Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.
Those with very loud voices in their throats are nearly incapable of thinking subtle thoughts.
That tuneful nymph, the babbling Echo.
Ray Garton never fails to go for the throat!
It's like an itch, isn't it? You can feel it in your throat. You want to scream for me.
Noodly: the act of being noodle-like, as in, Vivia drinks one Red Beach and she feels noodly.
I have a hands-off policy when it comes to my larynx.
singing has to come from the inside, and i don't have anything left inside.'
'really? How did that happen?'
'it all just drained out.
Many composers today don't know what the human throat is.
little too undistinguished, a little
I'm not hungry!' A human voice, but with a sulky whine in it that suggested that its owner had been given too many sweets when he was young and not enough shoutings-at. It was the kind of voice that's used to having its life with the crusts cut off.
I did have a lucky thing going on there in my throat.
Abruptly feeling as if his tongue were too thick for his mouth.
I have the mouth of a sailor.
The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
Bindy Mackenzie talks like a horse.
A poem begins with a lump in the throat
The velvet voice of her soul.
How unfair, he thought; I can close my mouth whenever I like, as tight as I like, and what has a mouth to say? It is there for taking in nourishment, yet it is well defended, but ears - ears are a prey to every onslaught.
There is a lump of desolation beneath the bony dip at my throat. It is no bigger than a coin, this spot, a peculiarly small place to hold such a feeling. I try to shove it to some deeper region, but there it sticks, a fragile skin-thickness from the outside world.
I felt a lump in my throat as the ball went in.
but resonant and deep.
You know how bad my voice sounds - well it feels just as bad.
In the eyelid-blue betweenness the wordy sounds of the whiskey-drinkers spilled distantly.
mouth," says Jack, as sharp as a needle.
I had a lump in my throat the size of a bundt cake pan.
Sometimes it seemed to him he was allergic to expressing himself. Often, when he desperately wanted to say a thing, he could actually feel his windpipe closing up on him, cutting off his air.
Thyroid eyes. Michelin lips. Voice like pea soup.
Her voice was weak, too much air and not enough sound.
A whispering and watery Norfolk sound
Telling of all the moonlit reeds around.
...what is a pleasant voice if the soul be vile?
My voice was like weak tea.
I'm so tired of hearing casting directors ask if I have a sore throat. The people who have told me that my voice is distinctive, it's unusual ... those people have always been close to my heart.
My voice is soft, but oh, my heart roars!
I used to always have a pretty high, little clear voice, but as I got older, I got a little cornbread in it.
It all begins between the ears.
Does a chicken have lips?
It was not the caress of her lips the length of him was looking for, but the back of her throat.
The voice is nothing but beaten air.
Her voice is hoarse. She's caught a catarrh from that dreadful draft.
Go for the throat. If you cant, go for the nads.
His voice sounded like molten metal. As if he had something thick at the back of his throat and it was making him sound deeper and richer than he actually was.
When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
I had to kiss Ruthie Henshall once with a cold. It was the final romantic moment in She Loves Me; as we separated, I noticed this arc of glistening mucus threaded between us.
I had throat surgery. We had to check that out and make sure it wasn't cancerous. I had a polyp on my vocal cord, so I had that taken out.
Her throat, and she hoped like hell he couldn't see it. But
To hear the Treorchy Male Choir in full throat is one of the great joys of choral music.
Shallow brooks murmur most, deep and silent slide away.
Can't do this. There were tears in her voice now, her throat clogged with emotion.
Maria!
How can I fit a tender word into bulging ears?
Low gurgling laughter, as sweet As the swallow's song i' the South, And a ripple of dimples that, dancing, meet By the curves of a perfect mouth.
He made a noise like a pig swallowing half a cabbage,
Sometimes it rose to an aching chord that caught the throat, saying this is the safety, this is warmth, this is the Whole.
It (a singer's voice) sounds as if it was aged in a whiskey cask, cured in an Ozarks smokehouse, dropped down a stone well, pulled out damp, and kept moist in the palm of a wicked woman's hand.
The words were low, more shape than breath.
I am so full of my tongue you would think speaking is easy. but it is not.
The heart hath treble wrong
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.
...his open nostril quivered with intent.
Some voices get hard and tight with age, some rough like broken glass.
Squee-squee-squawky-squiggly-squee.-- Eric Arvin
, her mouth working mutely like the valve of an undersea creature