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“They lay on their heathery beds and listened to all the sounds of the night. They heard the little grunt of a hedgehog going by. They saw the flicker of bats overhead. They smelt the drifting scent of honeysuckle, and the delicious smell of wild thyme crushed under their bodies. A reed-warbler sang a beautiful little song in the reeds below, and then another answered.”
― Enid Blyton, The Secret Island

“For the first time in four billion years a living creature had contemplated himself and heard with a sudden, unaccountable loneliness, the whisper of the wind in the night reeds.”
― Loren Eiseley, The Immense Journey

“The bassoon is absurd... it takes like an hour to assemble one. They're enormous and are made of Lincoln Logs, aluminum twigs, and paper towel tubes. There are these tiny double wooden reeds that you have to soak and trim and tend to all the time. There's a strap that you actually have to sit on when you play so the whole thing doesn't fall on the floor like a bundle of garbage.”
― Rainn Wilson, The Bassoon King: My Life in Art, Faith, and Idiocy

“The tarn is deep and brown and still, reflecting rushes and reeds at its sides, the sedges of the hills, and the sky over them.”
― Henry Williamson, Tarka the Otter