Music soothes the din of philosophy and lightens incessantly over the heads of sages.—Journal,  23 June 1840
Nature makes no noise. The howling storm, the rustling leaf, the pattering rain are no disturbance, there is an essential and unexplored harmony in them.—Journal18 November 1837
Once, when Joe had called again, and we were listening for moose, we heard come faintly echoing, or creeping from far, through the moss-clad aisles, a dull, dry, rushing sound, with a solid core to it, yet as if half smothered under the grasp of the luxuriant and fungus-like forest, like the shutting of a door in some distant entry of the damp and shaggy wilderness.—The Maine Woods
One early thrush gave me a note or two as I drove along the woodland path.—Walden
Only in their saner moments do men hear the crickets. It is balm to the philosopher. It tempers his thoughts.—Journal, 22 May 1854
Our reflections had already acquired a historical remoteness from the scenes we had left, and we ourselves essayed to sing.—A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
The earth song of the cricket! Before Christianity was, it is. Health, health, health, is the burden of its song.—Journal, 17 June 1852
The man I meet with is not often so instructive as the silence he breaks.—Journal, 7 January 1857
The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears that hear it.—Walden
The occupied ear thinks that beyond the cricket no sound can be heard, but there is an immortal melody that may be heard morning, noon, and night, by ears that can attend, and from time to time this man or that hears it, having ears that were made for music.—Journal, 21 July 1851
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