"The actual human voices we hear form and fade like pond-ripples; that is their mystery. Often we misread them as solid objects, like stones or stars, because we're used to carved steel, printed text, digitalized recordings of the fluttering larynx and its small warm wet wind, the vibration which reaches out and shivers skin inside our ears and the watery electricity of our brains. One way of remembering that voices are not things is to recall that one of those voices is our own: a dark resonance in a solid tongue and bone, which is not tongue and body themselves. It is the breath of our bow across the larynx our violin. It is in fact our body, vibrating, as it grasps the world alternatively, a casting of our body upon the air."