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. . . 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 . . .
Your voice dries up if you don't use it.
Your voice dries up if you don't use it.
I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of
their wits, they would have no more read more
I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of
their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us;
but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently
as any suckling dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.
Thy voice
Is a celestial melody.
Thy voice
Is a celestial melody.
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.
The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it; but it is also so clear read more
The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it; but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it.
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!
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?
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.
