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Her voice changed like a bird's:
There grew more of the music, and less of the words.
Her voice changed like a bird's:
There grew more of the music, and less of the words.
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.)
A man's style is his mind's voice. Wooden minds, wooden voices.
A man's style is his mind's voice. Wooden minds, wooden voices.
He ceased; but still their trembling ears retained
The deep vibrations of his witching song.
He ceased; but still their trembling ears retained
The deep vibrations of his witching song.
The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he awhile
Thought him read more
The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he awhile
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with read more
Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.
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.
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.
. . . 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 . . .
