The sound of the piano is always something that is a real kind of comfort food to me.
...water laughing softly down a black stone wall.
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
Donald had reached its further edge, and could hear the rush of the stream from the deep obscurity of the abyss below, when there rose from the opposite side a strain of the most delightful music he had ever heard.
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night And I love the rain.
But one sound always rose above the clamor of busy life and, no matter how much of a tintinnabulation, was never confused and, fora moment lifted everything into an ordered sphere: that of the bells.
I live just above a creek, and it's always very active. It almost sounds like the ocean. It's constant, and there's lots of big rocks in it, so it's got a great sound. It's one of my favorite things.
The voice of the sea is seductive, never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander in abysses of solitude.
She walked on, comforted by the surf, by the one perpetual moment of beach-time, the now-and-always of it.
The room was very quiet. I walked over to the TV set and turned it on to a dead channel-white noise at maximum decibels, a fine sound for sleeping, a powerful continuous hiss to drown out everything strange.
That's the jazz that I like - the stuff that has a soothing effect.
