The senses of children are unprofaned. Their whole body is one sense. They take a physical pleasure in riding on a rail.—Journal, 7 July 1851
The silence rings—it is musical & thrills me. A night in which the silence was audible—I hear the unspeakable.—Journal, 21 January 1853
The voices of school children sound like spring.—Journal, 9 February 1854
The wood still cheerfully and unsuspiciously echoes the strokes of the axe that fells it, and while they are few and seldom, they enhance its wildness, and all the elements strive to naturalize the sound.—"A Winter Walk"
The wood-thrush sang on the distant shore, and the laugh of some loons, sporting in a concealed western bay, as if inspired by morning, came distinct over the lake to us, and, what was remarkable, the echo which ran round the lake was much louder than the original note; probably because, the loons being in a regularly curving bay under the mountain, we were exactly in the focus of many echoes, the sound being reflected like light from a concave mirror.—The Maine Woods
The word for echo was Pockadunkquaywayle.—The Maine Woods
Their reflections fell on the eye like a clash of cymbals on the ear.—A Yankee in Canada
There are odors enough in nature to remind you of everything if you had lost every sense but smell.—Journal, 6 May 1852
There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of nature and has his sense still.—Walden
These earthly sounds should only die away for a season, as the strains of the harp rise and swell. Death is that expressive pause in the music of the blast.—Journal, 29 December 1841
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