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— W. S. Merwin"Sitting over words Very late I have heard a kind of whispered sighing Not far Like a night wind in pines or like the sea in the dark The echo of everything that has ever Been spoken Still spinning its one syllable Between the earth and silence."
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...the sound of our lack of conversation amplified by the echo of our footsteps on the stone around us.
— Maggie Stiefvater
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By his monstrous way of life he seemed to have put himself beyond the limits of reality. Nothing moved him or spoke to him from the real world unless he heard it in an echo of the infuriated cries within him.
— James Joyce
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