Oddly similar
From Madame Bovary:
Human speech is like a cracked pot on which we beat out rhythms for bears to dance to when we are striving to make music that will wring tears from the stars.
From Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead:
Hollow protestations […] vanishing into the thin unpopulated air. We ransomed our dignity to the clouds, and the uncomprehending birds listened.
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