I long for the raised voice, the howl of rage or love.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I was raised in a family where none of us ever raised a voice, so there was no room to express feelings of rage or even unabashed joy - a little bashed joy, here or there, or being mildly disgruntled.
Oh, love will make a dog howl in rhyme.
I'm kind of an animated person. I was given this really big blessing that my voice just kind of carries the emotion.
Screaming is bad for the voice, but it's good for the heart.
I've always been searching to arrive at a certain voice that will probably elude me forever.
When I write, I can become this ecstatic, crazy fellow, hearing the voices and just loosening up and letting them grow.
My voice, I'm blessed to have it.
Apart from a period of crisis during my adolescence, when my voice was changing and I could not tame it - it was like a kicking foal that does not listen to reason - I have always been told I have a pleasant and recognizable voice.
I'm grateful that, after an early life of being silenced, sometimes violently, I grew up to have a voice, circumstances that will always bind me to the rights of the voiceless.
Perhaps when music has been shouting for so long, a quieter voice seems attractive.