"Reverberate" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... pistol-shots—then the white silence! The river ice splintered to the tightening grip of winter with the grinding of an earthquake, and again the white silence! Or the heavy night air, lying thick with frost smoke like a pall over earth, would reverberate to the deep bayings of the wolf-pack, and over all would close ...
— Heralds of Empire - Being the Story of One Ramsay Stanhope, Lieutenant to Pierre Radisson in the Northern Fur Trade • Agnes C. Laut
... which had followed from the very local or limited character of miracles (when a few generations had passed by), resolved to remedy this by a series of wonders so stupendous and magnificent, that the very echo of them, as it were, should reverberate through the hollow of future ages, and so impress all tradition as to render them independent of the voice of individual historians. He accordingly passed to the very extreme limit (if he did not go beyond it) by which a miracle is necessarily restricted,— that of not ...
— The Eclipse of Faith - Or, A Visit To A Religious Sceptic • Henry Rogers
... Madman! To speed thy lance when Caesar's self Still held his hand! Then from the clarions broke The strident summons, and the trumpets blared Responsive signal. Upward to the vault The sound re-echoes where nor clouds may reach Nor thunder penetrate; and Haemus' slopes (21) Reverberate to Pelion the din; Pindus re-echoes; Oeta's lofty rocks Groan, and Pangaean cliffs, till at their rage Borne back from all the earth they shook ...
— Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes of the Civil Wars • Lucan
... still, but the last echoes of the Guy Foxes had long ceased to reverberate. We was slack,—several joints under our average mark, and wine, of course, proportionate. So slack had we become at last, that Beds Nos. 26, 27, 28, and 31, having took their six o'clock dinners, and dozed over their respective pints, had drove away in their respective Hansoms for their ...
— Somebody's Luggage • Charles Dickens
... its past? Just as, without some slender knowledge of its former culture, we must be for ever ignorant of its inherited powers and aptitudes. The harp that once through Tara's halls the soul of music shed, now indeed hangs mute on Tara's walls, but for all that its echoes still reverberate in the listening ear. ...
— Penelope's Irish Experiences • Kate Douglas Wiggin
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