Seated upon the convex mound Of one vast kidney, Jonah prays And sings his canticles and hymns, Making the hollow vault resound God's goodness and mysterious ways, Till the great fish spouts music as he swims.
Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.
I am called to listen to the sound of my own heart -- to write the story within myself that demands to be told at that particular point in my life. And if I do this faithfully, clothing that idea in the flesh of human experience and setting it in a true place, the sound from my heart will resound in the reader's heart.
My book should smell of pines and resound with the hum of insects.
Before you agree to do anything that might add even the smallest amount of stress to your life, ask yourself: What is my truest intention? Give yourself time to let a yes resound within you. When it's right, I guarantee that your entire body will feel it.
Ever the words of the gods resound; But the porches of man's ear seldom in this low life's round are unsealed, that he may hear.
Our hymn-books resound with a melodious cursing of God and enduring Him forever.
The echoes of beauty you've seen transpire, Resound through dying coals of a campfire.
Why is it important that you are with God and God alone on the mountain top? It's important because it's the place in which you can listen to the voice of the One who calls you the beloved. To pray is to listen to the One who calls you 'my beloved daughter,' 'my beloved son,' 'my beloved child. ' To pray is to let that voice speak to the center of your being, to your guts, and let that voice resound in your whole being.
The applause of the audience is short-lived. When calls resound for an encore, we are called to direct our attention to our Master.
Where shall the word be found, where will the word Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence.
Aristotle. . . imputed this symphony of the heavens. . . this music of the spheres to Pythagorus. . . . But Pythagoras alone of mortals is said to have heard this harmony. . . If our hearts were as pure, as chaste, as snowy as Pythagoras' was, our ears would resound and be filled with that supremely lovely music of the wheeling stars.
