voices

In the conversation about women in leadership, male voices are noticeably absent.

We must tell girls their voices are important.

Writing is not about the voices in your head, but the voices that make the great leap to the page.

I found I could not not let the words flow.

For every survivor there is also a rapist.

Half a lifetime ago, I was forced at knifepoint to a grabage dump and gang-raped.

I want to empasize that rape is about human beings, not statistics.

My mouth opened.It happened.Yes, with my head thrown into the sky, I started howling.Arms stretched out next to me, I howled, and everything came out of me. Visions pored up my throat and past voices surrounded me. The sky listened. The city didn't. I didn't care. All I cared about was that I was howling so that I could hear my voice and so I would remember that the boy had intensity and something to offer. I howled, oh, so loud and desperate, telling a world that I was here and I wouldn't lie down.

If I__ surprised at where I__ at, it__ probably because I__ not listening to the reality that listening to the voices that I__e listened to have put me here. So, maybe I should be less surprised and more disappointed.

When the north wind blew across the tar ponds, voices were carried away.

Only by glaring into the depths of ones own reflection can we find our true selves. It is here where the mirrored voices of our souls speak and can be heard.

There are always two voices in our heads, the good and the bad. The tricky part is to figure out which one of them is doing the talking.

And it was the din of all these hollow-sounding voices that made him halt irresolutely in the pursuit of phantoms. He gave them ear only for a time but he was happy only when he was far from them, beyond their call, alone or in the company of phantasmal comrades.

The trouble with living alone, she had discovered-and the reason why most people she knew didn't like to be alone even for a little while-was that the longer you lived alone, the louder the voices on the right side of your brain got.

Emily woke to shadows and their voices. They looked different today, because the entire world hurt. The numbness had worn off sometime between sleep and awake, and she was seeing red. The shadows on the walls were not shadows at all, but red blobs consisting of teeth and claws. Her house reeked of pain.The whole world was fucking bleeding.

When i believe in everything, I could not seethe actors semicircled around a studio microphoneflipping the pages of scripts in unison.I only heard the voices, resonant, electric, adult,accusing each other of murder.

The sacred soul knows the sacred voice of the Great God.

There is still hope that if the people refuse to give up and keep silent, no matter how long or inconsequential their voices could be at the beginning, it would still be heard and justice be served.