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The voice is nothing but beaten air.
[Lat., Vox nihil aliud quam ictus aer.]
The voice is nothing but beaten air.
[Lat., Vox nihil aliud quam ictus aer.]
The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in read more
The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.
A Locanian having plucked all the feathers off from a nightingale
and seeing what a little body it had, read more
A Locanian having plucked all the feathers off from a nightingale
and seeing what a little body it had, "surely," quoth he, "thou
art all voice and nothing else." (Vox et praeterea nibil.)
It is the still small voice that the soul heeds; not the deafening blasts of doom.
It is the still small voice that the soul heeds; not the deafening blasts of doom.
Two voices are there; one is of the sea,
One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
Two voices are there; one is of the sea,
One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.
Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches
The innermost recesses of my spirit!
Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches
The innermost recesses of my spirit!
The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
And read more
The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
And though the sound had parted thence,
Still left an echo in the sense.
At some glad moment was it nature's choice To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice?
At some glad moment was it nature's choice To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice?
My voice stuck in my throat.
[Lat., Vox faucibus haesit.]
My voice stuck in my throat.
[Lat., Vox faucibus haesit.]
