Many Sounds But No Noises

It was a beautiful September evening, windless, very peaceful. The park and the old, cream-painted houses facing it basked in the golden light of sunset. There were many sounds but no noises. The cries of playing children and the whir of London's traffic seemed quieter than usual, as if softened by the evening's gentleness. Birds were singing their last song of the day, and farther along the Circle, at the house where a great composer lived, someone was playing the piano.

-Dodie Smith, The Hundred and One Dalmatians, 8.

Weird Noises

This island is always full of weird noises...There’s been times I’ve woken up in the middle of the night when there wasn’t a breath of air stirring and could have sworn I heard fiddles or somebody plucking on a harp or God only knows what. But I’m used to it.

-Frederick Buechner, The Storm, 182.