Sentence examples for from which issues from inspiring English sources

Occasionally he eats a banana or disappears into darkness, from which issues sounds of chinking glass and pouring liquid.

The Christmas tree grows huge, and the fireplace becomes a hellish, fiery portal from which issues an army of warrior rats.

The philosopher and aphorist E. M. Cioran writes, "Boredom, with a bad reputation for frivolity, nonetheless allows us to glimpse the abyss from which issues the need for prayer".

It is worth noting that the ancient philosophers tried to live in communities and one can think of a philosophical community, whether instantiated in a Christian congregation, a Buddhist sangha, a humanist group, as serving to protect and support the conditions for that undeluded perception of the world from which issues moral action.

In her garage, the supervisor opened a door from which issued a blinding stream of light.

Volcano, vent in the crust of the Earth or another planet or satellite, from which issue eruptions of molten rock, hot rock fragments, and hot gases.

Among other things, he controlled the LulzSec Twitter account, from which issued forth a stream of jokey pronouncements, the last of which had the feeling of prophecy to it: "You cannot arrest an idea," he said.

In our eyeline is a Big Green Egg, the chef's kit du jour, from which issue smoke-wreathed octopus tentacles like something from HP Lovecraft; under our noses are plastic containers of cheese and potatoes.

All I know is that with each encounter, I steadily began to feel that your employees were prisoners just like us, armed only with their little walkie-talkies from which issued tinny instructions, lost communiqués from some distant Oz. "This used to be a great airline," one old-timer said as we were sweltering to death on the bus.

The former Soviet bloc, by contrast, is like a vast gray housing project, stretching from the Balkans to the Bering Strait, from which issue streams of do-or-die strivers: fighters, basketball players, musicians, dancers, writers, hustlers, beauties, entrepreneurs and gangsters, all flowing toward the big money in the decadent West.

White Americans seem to feel that happy songs are happy and sad songs are sad, and that, God help us, is exactly the way most white Americans sing them — sounding, in both cases, so helplessly, defenselessly fatuous that one dare not speculate on the temperature of the deep freeze from which issue their brave and sexless little voices.