Sentences with phrase «years of silence between»

With years of silence between Metroid: Other M and Metroid Prime: Federation Force, Nintendo revealed the often requested Metroid Prime 4 and Metroid: Samus Returns, a reimaging of Metroid II: Return of Samus.

It was only during those 400 years of silence between Malachi and Matthew that religiosity became popular.

The following question is about the years of silence in the Bible, not just the 400 years of silence between the Old Testament and New Testament, but also the other periods of silence that are between certain sections of Scripture.

In other words, whatever we say about the 400 years of silence between the Testaments must also suggest an answer for the 4000 + years of silence in the rest of world history.

For example, it is not just the 400 years of silence between Malachi and Matthew where we have no books in the Bible.

When some ask about the 400 years of silence between the Old and New Testaments, they are really asking about the years of silence in their own life.

Not exact matches

The question is not just about 400 years of silence in between Malachi and Matthew, but about the thousands of years of silence regarding almost everything that has happened in the world.

So God spoke in the 400 years of silence (the period between 80 B.C. till 4 B.C. to be roughly exact) to Anna.

Gordon wrote on many topics: angling techniques («The fly must be placed to an inch as the fish will rarely take it unless it floats over them just right»), the books he read, the effects of drought and floods on fish, the seasons of the year («The silence of the snows is over all the land, and the bright waters of our trout streams run almost black between icy banks») and his belief in the natural fly as a model for the artificial («The insect must be studied and many patterns dressed before one can hope to satisfy the critical eyes of the trout»).

The first 38 years of his career gave us five films, all of them masterpieces or thereabouts, and the stretches of silence — 20 years between Days of Heaven and The Thin Red Line — only added to the experience.

Not at all, but Sony's silence around the series after ten years of almost annual releases between 2002 and 2013 is concerning, especially with its stablemates Jak and Daxter and Sly Cooper on ice and Insomniac now taking longer between releases than in years past.

Give it another two years of silence, an announcement somewhere in between, one year of hype, and then Doom 4 will finally be released.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,