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 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. 
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.
 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.) 
Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet read more
Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy 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.
 How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman!
 It is so seldom heard that, when it speaks,
 read more 
 How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman!
 It is so seldom heard that, when it speaks,
  It ravishes all senses. 
 His voice no touch of harmony admits,
 Irregularly deep, and shrill by fits.
  The two extremes appear read more 
 His voice no touch of harmony admits,
 Irregularly deep, and shrill by fits.
  The two extremes appear like man and wife
   Coupled together for the sake of strife. 
 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. 
. . . 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 . . .