deaf

Self-serving biases and self-centered agendas are cotton jammed in the ears of our conscience. Even if truth shouts, we can__ hear it.

One of the most effective ways to learn about oneself is by taking seriously the cultures of others. It forces you to pay attention to those details of life which differentiate them from you.

...You won't even see what is put right on the table before you. Men. If it was raining soup you'd be out there with a fork.

A deaf and dumb in the mist of morons is a renowed talkative among brains.

If I hadn't lost my hearing, I wouldn't be where I am now. It forced me to maximize my own potential. I have to be better than the average person to succeed.

The rich eat life, the poor eat death; so what is the problem they ask?

Never presume to know a person based on the one dimensional window of the internet. A soul can__ be defined by critics, enemies or broken ties with family or friends. Neither can it be explained by posts or blogs that lack facial expressions, tone or insight into the person__ personality and intent. Until people __et that_, we will forever be a society that thinks Beautiful Mind was a spy movie and every stranger is really a friend on Facebook.

Sometimes the loudest things in the world are the things you can´t hear at all~

Even if all our senses fail to function _ eyes turn blind and ears fail to listen _ the heart will still listen, see and beat.

I may be deaf to the sounds of the world, but you have shown me how I can hear by seeing the color in your smile and feeling the touch of your hand in mine.

Three miles from my adopted city lies a village where I came to peace.The world there was a calm place, even the great Danube no more than a pale ribbon tossed onto the landscapeby a girl__ careless hand. Into this stillness I had been ordered to recover. The hills were gold with late summer;my rooms were two, plus a small kitchen, situated upstairs in the back of a cottage at the end of the Herrengasse. From my window I could see onto the courtyard where a linden tree twined skyward _ leafy umbilicus canted toward light, warped in the very act of yearning __nd I would feed on the sun as if that alone would dismantle the silence around me.At first I raged. Then music raged in me, rising so swiftly I could not write quickly enough to ease the roiling. I would stop to light a lamp, and whatever I__ missed _ larks flying to nest, church bells, the shepherd__ home-toward-evening song _ rushed in, and Iwould rage again. I am by nature a conflagration; I would rather leap than sit and be looked at.So when my proud city spread her gypsy skirts, I reentered, burning towards her greater, constant light.Call me rough, ill-tempered, slovenly_ I tell you, every tenderness I have ever known has been nothing but thwarted violence, an ache so permanent and deep, the lightest touch awakens it. . . . It is impossible to care enough. I have returned with a second Symphony and 15 Piano Variationswhich I__e named Prometheus,after the rogue Titan, the half-a-god who knew the worst sin is to take what cannot be given back.I smile and bow, and the world is loud. And though I dare not lean in to shout Can__ you see that I__ deaf? __ also cannot stop listening.

It's no use talking about the 'Doomsday Clock' when it has already chimed. But, alas, the chimes fell on deaf ears.

Music is like a dream. One that I cannot hear.

He is deaf, and keen to accept,any economical operation,that will correct his situation.He visited the doctor best,and started talking on subject,like the after-effects, and if any threats.The doctor medically checked,and asked him what he expects?He expressed, he wants to be addressed-in words, and not in signs.And how keen he is, to have his ears listening.He wants to listen the echo of,sun-set over that crimson dawn.He is keen to know, the sound of,a blooming rose.He wants to know what it sounds like,when a seedling grows.But Doctor- if you say: You are incapable,then I better get away,for then there is- nothing worth to be heard,in your seemingly wordy world.

Make no mistake about it. We are born blind, deaf, and mute. It is neither these eyes that give us sight, nor these ears that give us sound. It is not even these lips that give us voice. It is only love. Love makes us seek beauty and truth. Love yearns to connect. To experience. To understand. So close your eyes at once. Don__ utter a word. Perk up your ears and listen to that silent sound inside you where all this is found.

Though love may be blind, it sees much;though it may be deaf, it hears much;though it may be mute, it says much;and though it may be lame, it does much.

I am not deaf. I hear the anger. I see the dissatisfaction, and I have to go faster.

Success listens only to applause. To all else it is deaf.