Suddenly, she heard a loud bang, a thump and a scream that caused her to jump from the bed. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up and her body became one big goosebump.
O, how wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul! The intellect of man sits enthroned visibly upon his forehead and in his eye; and the heart of man is written upon his countenance. But the soul reveals itself in the voice only; as God revealed himself to the prophet of old in the still, small voice; and in a voice from the burning bush. The soul of man is audible, not visible. A sound alone betrays the flowing of the eternal fountain, invisible to man!
Hyperion
Quote Detail
O, how wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul! The intellect of man sits enthroned visibly upon his forehead and in his eye; and the heart of man is written upon his countenance. But the soul reveals itself in the voice only; as God revealed himself to the prophet of old in the still, small voice; and in a voice from the burning bush. The soul of man is audible, not visible. A sound alone betrays the flowing of the eternal fountain, invisible to man!
Quick Answer
What this quote page tells you
This canonical quote page keeps the full saying, the attributed author, any linked work, and the topic tags together so the quote can be cited from one stable URL.
Related Quotes
More quote cards from the same area
Once upon a time there was a king, and the king commissioned his favorite wizard to create a magic mirror. This mirror didn__ show you your reflection. It showed you your soul__t showed you who you really were.The wizard couldn__ look at it without turning away. The king couldn__ look at it. The courtiers couldn__ look at it. A chestful of treasure was offered to anyone who could look at it for sixty seconds without turning away. And no one could.
There is love in me the likes of which you've never seen. There is rage in me the likes of which should never escape. If I am not satisfied int he one, I will indulge the other.
The skies are haunted by that which it were madness to know
Listen,listen with your eyes,and your lips.Listen with your skin, and your blood.Can you hear us,at the edges?
We're not in a fairytale story. This is not a movie. Scriptwriters don't write our fates. We do.