Authors:
  • 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.

    Arthur Conan Doyle (2015). “Beyond the City”, p.30, Sheba Blake Publishing