Nothing to echo off of, she supposed.
The ringing echo of his voice faded, leaving only the constant sound of dripping water as they moved deeper into the mine.
It seemed to come from behind them but it could have been anything—a dislodged rock, an echo of their own movements.
He listened, but heard only the echo of his call.
The only response was the echo of an unanswered ring.
But the answer was an echo of footsteps, retreating down the hall and thumping up the stairs.
His words were an echo of Death's assertion. They struck Kris bone-deep. Kiki's doubt was apparent for the second time that day. Kris watched Kiki pass him and disappear through the portal to the underworld. Kris stepped through, distracted from his dark thoughts by the new world. They stood on a small rise overlooking a jungle-like forest edged in the distance by an ocean of black water.
His groan brought an echo from the depths of her soul and she pressed closer.
The echo of little voices inspired several snickers from around them.
The last words echo I Cor.
Yet little or nothing was generally known about the bird until Delattre sent an account of his meeting with it to the Echo du monde savant for 1843, which was reprinted in the Revue zoologique for that year (pp. 163-165).
Some curious examples of echo are given in Herschel's article on " Sound " in the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, but it appears that he is in error in one case.
The Agora was the name given to that part of the Altis which had the Porch of Echo on the east, the Altar of Zeus on the west, the Metroum on the north, and the precinct of the Temple of Zeus on the south-west.
Remember your Digital Echo file, that record of everything you do and say?
It should know what the food on my fork weighs, run a chemical analysis of every bite I take, and log it in my Digital Echo file for my future reference.
We have explored how the Digital Echo files will allow everyone to study human illness.
When everyone's Digital Echo (along with their genetic information) is anonymously available for computers to study for patterns, computers will be able to treat the entire planet as a single controlled experiment because they can normalize for all the variables.
I cannot help wondering if it is the same fragrance that greeted the Norsemen long ago, when, according to tradition, they visited our shores--an odorous echo of many centuries of silent growth and decay in flower and tree....
When she came to retell the story in a fuller form, the echo was still in her mind of the phrases she had written nine years before.
At times it catches some faint echo from the living, joyous, real world, a gleam of the perfection that is to be; and, thrilled out of its despondency, feels capable of working out a grand ideal even "in the poor, miserable, hampered actual," wherein it is placed; but in a moment the inspiration, the vision is gone, and this great, much-suffering soul is again enveloped in the darkness of uncertainty and despair.
When I meet the engine with its train of cars moving off with planetary motion--or, rather, like a comet, for the beholder knows not if with that velocity and with that direction it will ever revisit this system, since its orbit does not look like a returning curve--with its steam cloud like a banner streaming behind in golden and silver wreaths, like many a downy cloud which I have seen, high in the heavens, unfolding its masses to the light--as if this traveling demigod, this cloud-compeller, would ere long take the sunset sky for the livery of his train; when I hear the iron horse make the hills echo with his snort like thunder, shaking the earth with his feet, and breathing fire and smoke from his nostrils (what kind of winged horse or fiery dragon they will put into the new Mythology I don't know), it seems as if the earth had got a race now worthy to inhabit it.
The echo is, to some extent, an original sound, and therein is the magic and charm of it.
My dwelling was small, and I could hardly entertain an echo in it; but it seemed larger for being a single apartment and remote from neighbors.
With trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letter which Dolokhov had composed for Anatole, and as she read it she found in it an echo of all that she herself imagined she was feeling.
A few instants after the echo of the reports resounding over the stone- built Kremlin had died away the French heard a strange sound above their head.