I hear like you see -- like that hummingbird outside that window for instance.

I don't know what would have happened to me if I hadn't been able to hear.

Some of my old memories feel trapped in amber in my brain, lucid and burning, while others are like the wing beat of a hummingbird, an intangible, ephemeral blur.

I'll sing outside your window. I'm as old fashioned as they come.

I love Wagner, but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws.

Now if you look out of that window and enjoy the mountains, how can you possibly look out of this window and enjoy the ocean?