“What birds were they? (...) He listened to the cries: like the squeak of mice be- hind the wainscot : a shrill twofold note. But the notes were long and shrill and whirring, unlike the cry of vermin, falling a third or a fourth and trilled as the flying beaks clove the air. Their cry was shrill and clear and fine and falling like threads of silken light unwound from whirring spools. ”

“Not like cats ” cried the Mouse in a shrill passionate voice. “Would you like cats if you were me”

“The shadows were daunted only by the light that encircled Tom. They screeched their howling revolt into the night air, but no matter how many, or how loud and shrill their cries, the light could not be dimmed.”

“Don't ask where the rest of this book is!" It is a shrill cry that comes from an undefined spot among the shelves. "All books continue in the beyond...”

“The cicadas pierce the air with their searing one-note calls; dust eddies across the roads; from the weedy patches at the verges, grasshoppers whir. The leaves of the maples hang from their branches like limp gloves; on the sidewalk my shadow crackles.”

“You are that moment before falling, the falling,a whir of falling, a wail of falling, the sweetthud.”