No insect hangs its nest on threads as frail as those which will sustain the weight of human vanity.
~
The House of Mirth
by
Edith Wharton
The sky was of the deepest blue, with a few white, fleecy clouds drifting lazily across it, and the air was filled with the low drone of insects or with a sudden sharper note as bee or bluefly shot past with its quivering, long-drawn hum, like an insect tuning-fork.
~
Beyond the City
by
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Heaven above was blue, and earth beneath was green; the river glistened like a path of diamonds in the sun; the birds poured forth their songs from the shady trees; the lark soared high above the waving corn; and the deep buzz of insects filled the air.
~
Nicholas Nickleby
by
Charles Dickens
Clouds of insects danced and buzzed in the golden autumn light, and the air was full of the piping of the song-birds. Long, glinting dragonflies shot across the path, or hung tremulous with gauzy wings and gleaming bodies.
~
The White Company
by
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Here and there a tawny brook prattled out from among the underwood and lost itself again in the ferns and brambles upon the further side. Save the dull piping of insects and the sough of the leaves, there was silence everywhere--the sweet restful silence of nature.
~
The White Company
by
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle