That voice

Hence, the phone had preserved the very essence, the bright vibration, of her vocal cords, the little "leap" in her larynx, the laugh clinging to the counter of the phrase, as if afraid in girlish glee to slip off the quick words it rode. It was the timbre of their past, as if the past had put through that call, a miraculous connection...Goldenly, youthfully, it bubbled with all the melodious characteristics he knew--or better say recollected, at once, in the sequence they came: that entrain, that whelming of quasi-erotic pleasure, that assurance and animation...
-- Ada, or Ardor by Vladimir Nabokov

I've tried to write this passage so many times. I was delighted to find it in Ada.

A voice conveys so much. In it we hear the tremble of emotion--a nervous tingle, an excited whisper, a tense snippet of sound--and in each tremble, the details of emotion. In its composition we discover stance, and character.

And god, I am so attracted to them. The right voice can send me tumbling in shock. I wake up only to realize that all of my erotic alarms are clanging, loudly, and it is all I can do to quiet them into a melodic buzzing.

Hell, what's next? An entry about the tongue?