Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Tones. 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 Tones Quotes And Sayings by 98 Authors including John Geddes,Emil Cioran,Alec Guinness,Mitch Albom,Alfred Lord Tennyson for you to enjoy and share.
you are a ring tone on the phone I didn't answer
We say: he has no talent, only tone. But tone is precisely what cannot be invented - we're born with it. Tone is an inherited grace, the privilege some of us have of making our organic pulsations felt - tone is more than talent, it is its essence.
A superb tenor voice, like a silver trumpet muffled in silk.
The news of life is carried via telephone. A baby's birth, a couple engaged, a tragic car accident on a late night highway - most milestones of the human journey, good or bad, are foreshadowed by the sound of a ringing.
Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moans of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Only the tone-deaf doubt the power of music, though some feel it more strongly than others.
Every silence says something: the silence between words, between notes in music and between people.
I don't know what silence sounds like anymore.
There's nothing in the world more silent than the telephone the morning after everybody pans your play. It won't ring from room service; your mother won't be calling you. If the phone has not rung by 8 in the morning, you're dead.
A sound so fine, there 's nothing lives 'Twixt it and silence.
How silent the unbeating heart.
Perhaps on some quiet night the tremor of far-off drums, sinking, swelling, a tremor vast, faint; a sound weird, appealing, suggestive and wild - and perhaps with as profound a meaning as the sound of bells in a Christian country.
Softly the loud peal dies, In passing winds it drowns, But breathes, like perfect joys, Tender tones.
For me, everything about the telling is guided by tone. It's a bit mysterious; it's either there, or it isn't.
My voice sucks. I don't like the tone.
Hark, how chimes the passing bell! There's no music to a knell; All the other sounds we hear, Flatter, and but cheat our ear. This doth put us still in mind That our flesh must be resigned, And, a general silence made, The world be muffled in a shade.
The sweetest softest melody, as good a sound as the laughter of a pretty girl, or your mother calling you to dinner.
The bells themselves are the best of preachers, Their brazen lips are learned teachers, From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air, Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw, Shriller than trumpets under the Law, Now a sermon and now a prayer.
There are tonalities which are noble and others which are vulgar, harmonies which are calm or consoling, and others which are exciting because of their boldness.
Tone is the hardest part of saying no.
The sweetest of all sounds is that of the voice of the woman we love.
Your ears are not simply for hearing tuneful sounds, mellow and sweetly played in harmony: you should also listen to laughter and weeping, to words flattering and acrimonious, to merriment and distress, to the language of men and to the roars and barking of animals.
NATURALLY CREATIVE ROMANTIC MOODS WEIGHS AND SOUNDS LOT OF SOUL QUAKE WAVES.
Sometimes silence become the most excruciating sound; sometimes the mind becomes a musical symphony of clouded thoughts, questions and clarifications but the vocals fail to present the sound of conversation.
Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
All the live murmur of a summer's day.
Soundless speechless sorties of life.
The bells were ringing again, high in the scudding sunlight in bright disorderly tatters of sound.
Emma wondered not for the first time how silence could vary so much in pitch and tone. This silence held a high-pitched scream at its heart.
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 ...
How flat all sounds are at the seaside, flat and yet emphatic, like the sound of gunshots heard at a distance.
The silences here are retreats of sound, like the retreat of the surf before a tidal wave: sound draining away, down slopes of acoustic passage, to gather, someplace else, to a great surge of noise.
The task is to investigate speech sounds in relation to the meanings with which they are invested, i.e., sounds viewed as signifiers, and above all to throw light on the structure of the relation between sounds and meaning.
It was music of a kind, at the same time soothing and invigorating, such a human place and time, when no one texted at the table or had an Internet to surf while they ate or carried a cell phone the ring of which could never be ignored.
Instruments sound sweetest when they are touched softest.
By profession an observer of tones and gestures,
That deep silence has a melody of its own, a sweetness unknown amid the harsh discords of the world's sounds.
Whatever clunks your cowbell,
In every country is a word which attempts the sound of cats, to match an inisolable portrait in the clouds to a din in the air. But the constant noise is not an omen of music to come.
How soft the music of those village bells, Falling at interval upon the ear In cadence sweet; now dying all away, Now pealing loud again, and louder still, Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on! With easy force it opens all the cells Where Memory slept.
A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made. The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air.
The essence of higher instrumental music lays herein that one is able to express in tones that what one is unable to say in words.
Today all sounds belong to a continuous field of possibilities lying within the comprehensive dominion of music. Behold the new orchestra: the sonic universe! And the musicians: anyone and anything that sounds!
The high note is not the only thing.
Silence, it appears, is not the opposite of sound. It is another world altogether, literally offering a deeper level of thought, a journey to the bedrock of the self.
When you have two notes from two different performances Auto-Tuned, it sounds like a car horn. And then you add harmonies, and it starts to sound like baby seals honking. - Tom Lord-Alge on Auto-Tune
When you are touched by a calling, answer on the first ring. As time passes the volume decreases until it is silenced forever by our allotted time.
To express a marriage of two complementary colors, their mingling and their opposition, the mysterious vibrations of kindred tones ...
Music, when soft voices die, vibrates in the memory.
That made sense of gabby meetings: salient points isolated from the gush of acoustic froth. This paper belonged on a clipboard, not being defaced by dud literature.
--Iain Sinclair
Some easy-listening Muzak came onto the phone. I held it away from my ear. If you listened close for long, it gave you cavities.
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.
Like many musicians, I can hear the weight in the sound. Sound is matter. We speak of the colour of an instrument, of transparency ... We can demand more sombre or lighter colours, deeper playing and singing, heavier or lighter sound. And manipulating those means is like creating a painting.
Your voices break and falter in the darkness, Break, falter, and are still.
loud laughter, phones ringing and the smell
Tessie allowed Milton to press his clarinet to her skin and fill her body with music. At first it only tickled her. But after a while the notes spread deeper into her body. She felt the vibrations penetrate her muscles, pulsing in waves, until they rattled her bones and made her inner organs hum.
Tenors get women by the score.
The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations which escape our ears. As for those that we perceive, they carry sounds to us, occasionally a chord, never a melody.
Sometimes she heard her father's watch chime: a light sound, as light as a smile. It always soothed her music. When Kestrel played for him, the melody ran sweet, sheer, and strong.
We must break out of this limited circle of sounds and conquer the infinite variety of noise-sounds.
You can speak loudly with deep silence
Love is that common tone shall raise his fiery head and sound his note.
Everything in the world has a spirit which is released by its sound.
And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.
Yet, the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet, the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells.
Silence is not an absence of sound but rather a shifting of attention toward sounds that speak to the soul.
Silence glimmers in the empty hallways, on the radios no one listens to anymore.
but resonant and deep.
Silence, beautiful voice.
I love thee as I love the tone
Of some soft-breathing flute
Whose soul is wak'd for me alone,
When all beside is mute.
Silence is so freaking loud
There's magic in that. It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict.
The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again.
The local-tone is the intrinsic value of a thing - excluding any effects of light. The local-tone of a common pearl is very nearly white; that of a lump of coal, nearly black.
I'm literally tone-deaf with singing. It's unreal.
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.
These were loud sounds, which were, therefore, public sounds, which, in turn, meant they were everyone's problem and, therefore, not mine. But small sounds were nearby and suggested such things as stealth betrayed, and were, therefore, pressing and personal.
When we talk, answer questions, I'm addressing your tonal. I'm teaching you a way or a series of ways of dealing with the world.
The effect is captivating as all of the tones mix, like a watercolor with hues swirled together, and lovely carrying notes long after the fingers are lifted from the keys.
It reminded him of the cacophony of an orchestra as it tuned its instruments: dissonance, suddenly resolving into harmony. It was the rumble, not of thunder, but its low, rolling precursor, trembling on the horizon.
The sounds of silence are a dim recollection now, like mystery, privacy and paying attention to one thing - or one person - at a time.
Inside the silence is a melody.
Soundwaves. It's the difference between one stillness and another stillness.
Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing.
When you close to me, my heart has created a vibration of the precise "Carrier frequency" to send all deep information about me to you
The velvet voice of her soul.
Every body has their taste in noises as well as other matters; and sounds are quite innoxious, or most distressing, by their sort rather than their quantity.
Silence which in breaking up at dawn
will speak differently.
Bells ringing with no sound
Laughter with no voice
Happiness lost without being found
Making love with no noise
Her laugh sounds like wind chimes.
...what is a pleasant voice if the soul be vile?
Your house sounds like a train at midday,
the wasps buzz, the saucepans sing,
the waterfall enumerates the deeds of the dew ...
What is the sound of an eighty-nine-year-old heart breaking?
The voice of America has no undertones or overtones in it. It repeats its optimistic catchwords in a tireless monologue that has the slightly metallic sound of a gramophone.
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!
SILENCE. The most loaded sound in human history.
Often, I can scarcely hear any one speaking to me; the tones yes, but not the actual words; yet as soon as any one shouts, it is unbearable. What will come of all this, heaven only knows!
Humbledrum farted mournfully, three distinct notes.
The rumble of a subway train,
the rattle of the taxis.
Quiet is the new loud.