Literature: Percy Bysshe Shelley

There is eloquence in the tongueless wind, and a melody in the flowing brooks and the rustling of the
reeds beside them, which by their inconceivable relation to something within the soul, awaken the spirits to a dance of breathless rapture, and bring tears of mysterious tenderness to the eyes, like
the enthusiasm of patriotic success, or the voice of one beloved singing to you alone.