Commonplace Book

'The notes flickered up into the warm orange air, and struck little rattling vibrations out of every ornament on the piano, or beyond on the small, littered tables that impeded movement, so that one waded rather than walked through the room. Now every object spoke and danced with its own accent: and the marble clock on the mantelpiece punctuated this sub-human chatter with a suggestion of mockery, hooting out the time in a clear, owlish voice. All these voices could be detected through the tones of the singer, tones which, though they veiled them, yet called them into being, as they flitted hither and thither, caressing the ears of the two elder ladies as if they were not notes, but tittilating items of gossip.'

from Before the Bombardment by Osbert Sitwell (Chapter XVII)