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An echo are a reflection of sound, arriving at the listener some time after the direct sound. Typical examples are the echo produced by the bottom of a well, by a building, or by the walls of an enclosed room. A true echo is a single reflection of the sound source. The time delay is the extra distance divided by the speed of sound.


Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations[edit]

Quotes reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 215.
  • Let echo, too, perform her part,
    Prolonging every note with art;
    And in a low expiring strain,
    Play all the comfort o'er again.
  • Hark! to the hurried question of Despair
    "Where is my child?"—An echo answers—"Where?"
    • Lord Byron, Bride of Abydos (1813), Canto II, Stanza 27.
  • I came to the place of my birth and cried: "The friends of my youth, where are they?"—and an echo answered, "Where are they?"
    • From an Arabic manuscript. quoted by Rogers, Pleasures of Memory, Part I.
  • Even Echo speaks not on these radiant moors.
    • Barry Cornwall, English Songs and Other Small Poems, The Sea in Calm, Part III.
  • Mysterious haunts of echoes old and far,
    The voice divine of human loyalty.
  • Echo waits with art and care
    And will the faults of song repair.
  • Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
    * * * * * *
    And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.
  • Sweetest Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen
    Within thy airy shell,
    By slow Meander's margent green,
    And in the violet-embroidered vale.
  • How sweet the answer Echo makes
    To music at night,
    When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
    And far away, o'er lawns and lakes,
    Goes answering light.
  • And more than echoes talk along the walls.
  • But her voice is still living immortal,
    The same you have frequently heard,
    In your rambles in valleys and forests,
    Repeating your ultimate word.
  • The babbling echo mocks the hounds,
    Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns,
    As if a double hunt were heard at once.
  • Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
    And feeds her grief.
  • Never sleeping, still awake,
    Pleasing most when most I speak;
    The delight of old and young,
    Though I speak without a tongue.
    Nought but one thing can confound me,
    Many voices joining round me,
    Then I fret, and rave, and gabble,
    Like the labourers of Babel.
  • I heard * * *
    * * * the great echo flap
    And buffet round the hills from bluff to bluff.
  • And a million horrible bellowing echoes broke
    From the red-ribb'd hollow behind the wood,
    And thunder'd up into Heaven.
  • Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
    And grow for ever and for ever.
    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
    And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
  • What would it profit thee to be the first
    Of echoes, tho thy tongue should live forever,
    A thing that answers, but hath not a thought
    As lasting but as senseless as a stone.
  • The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
    Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.

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