His voice wove a soft spell, a blanketing numbness.

Her voice wove spells, magic threads winding even when she spoke.

Pir Baba's voice wove like a hummingbird around a note, climbed, danced with another.

Their voices blended, weaving a haunting song of infinite sadness.

Her rich, dark voice wove a beautiful harmony against the ptue tones of the violin.

The King's voice wove its way into the pattern of his thoughts.

Palmer's gorgeous voice weaves stories from the kids' and parents' perspectives.

All around the deck people calmed, their voices weaving together in comforting prayer.

Suddenly eight or nine voices weaved, talking with contempt and rage of the group.

There was little time, and the voices of the ancients were already weaving their spell about her.