Monday, April 27th
Of sounds there is no end.
Harry Bertoia (1915-1978), sound sculptures, Bally, Pennsylvania
I found a bird this morning, down—down—on a little bush at the foot of the garden, and wherefore sing, I said, since nobody hears?
One sob in the throat, one flutter of bosom—’My business is to sing‘—and away she rose!
—Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), letter to Dr. and Mrs. J. G. Holland, c. 1862