“His voice is like 999 one-winged vultures, all flapping in unison, while 333 horned frogs croak in protest. My love must sound better to her.”
In this quote by Jarod Kintz, the speaker is reflecting on the sound of his own voice and comparing it to a chaotic cacophony of vultures and horned frogs. The speaker seems to be acknowledging the inadequacy or unpleasantness of his own voice, while also hoping that his love for someone will make up for this perceived deficiency. This comparison illustrates the speaker's self-awareness and desire to please the person he loves.
In today's world of social media and instant communication, we are constantly bombarded with voices and opinions from all directions. The comparison of a voice to a cacophony of vultures and frogs could be seen as a metaphor for the overwhelming noise and chaos that can sometimes drown out genuine expressions of love or affection. In a society where attention is scarce and distractions are plentiful, it is more important than ever to speak from the heart and make sure our words are heard above the clamor.
In this quote by Jarod Kintz, the author paints a vivid image of the harshness of someone's voice by comparing it to the cacophony of one-winged vultures and horned frogs. The speaker suggests that their love's voice must provide a more pleasing sound to someone they care for.
The quote by Jarod Kintz paints a vivid picture of a unique and perhaps jarring voice. Consider the following questions to reflect on this quote:
How do you imagine a voice that is compared to "999 one-winged vultures" and "333 horned frogs"? What characteristics do you think such a voice would have?
How does the comparison of the speaker's voice to a cacophony of sounds contribute to the overall tone of the quote? What emotions or feelings does it evoke for you?
In what ways do you think the speaker tries to convey the idea that their love must sound better to the recipient of their affection? How does this notion influence your understanding of the quote as a whole?
“The Pope is a mere tormentor of conscience. The assembly of his greased and religious crew in praying was altogether like the croaking of frogs, which edified nothing at all.”
“I do not like the raw sound of the human voice in unison unless it is under the discipline of music.”
“Judith, you soundhorrible. What's the matter with your voice? Are you coming down with something?"Judith shook her head. "I'm all right.""You sound like you swallowed a frog.”
“There were frogs all right, thousands of them. Their voices beat the night, they boomed and barked and croaked and rattled. They sang to the stars, to the waning moon, to the waving grasses. They bellowed long songs and challenges.”
“One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold sunless shore and said, "We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I'll make one. I'll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog that ever was; I'll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. I'll make a sound that's so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I'll make me a sound and an apparatus and they'll call it a Fog Horn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life."The Fog Horn blew.”