There is no index so sure as the voice.

There is no index so sure as the voice.

A sweet voice, a little indistinct and muffled, which caresses
and does not thrill; an utterance which glides on read more

A sweet voice, a little indistinct and muffled, which caresses
and does not thrill; an utterance which glides on without
emphasis, and lays stress on what is deeply felt.

. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry read more

. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry and turmoil of life; we receive counsels and comforts, we get under no other condition . . .

And rolling far along the gloomy shores
The voice of days of old and days to be.

And rolling far along the gloomy shores
The voice of days of old and days to be.

The human voice is the organ of the soul.

The human voice is the organ of the soul.

My voice stuck in my throat.
[Lat., Vox faucibus haesit.]

My voice stuck in my throat.
[Lat., Vox faucibus haesit.]

The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

There is no index of character so sure as the voice.

There is no index of character so sure as the voice.

I thank you for your voices, thank you!
Your most sweet voices! Now you have left your voices,
read more

I thank you for your voices, thank you!
Your most sweet voices! Now you have left your voices,
I have no further with you.