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.

Her voice was like the voice the stars
Had when they sang together.

Her voice was like the voice the stars
Had when they sang together.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

. . . 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 . . .

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.