Quotes About Bell

Vianne was thankful for the bell. She was a teacher, for God's sake. What did she know to say about dangers such as these? How could she assuage a child's fear when her own was straining at the leash?

You love me? Like summer loves short nights. Get a checkup, then. Only cure I need is you. I'm serious about this, Chuck. Only doctor I need is Dr. Crystal Bell. Now come here . . . And then there is silence, so I put the pillow over my head because when they stop talking, I know what that means. Uggghh!

They rung my bell to ask me. Could I recommend a maid. I said, yes, your momma.

I never wanted to be a star, I never wanted to travel far / I only wanted a little bit of love so I could put a little love in my heart / I never wanted to be la-de-da, go to parties 'avec le bourgeois' / I only wanted to sing my song well so I could ring a small bell in your heart

And now the Chapel's silver bell you hear, That summons you to all the Pride of Pray'r: Light quirks of Music, broken and uneven, Make the soul dance upon a Jig to Heav'n.

My favorite sport is baseball; my cousin is pitcher Heath Bell.

Maybe the silence you move through shaped me, the way a church bell ringing resonates long after the ear ceases to perceive it, the way waves space themselves until they stop. — Nick Flynn, from "Man Dancing with a Paper Cup," Some Ether: Poems . (Graywolf Press June 2, 2015)

I hadn't thought about it until just now, but the night Daniel rang our bell in the winter of 1970 was the end of November, the same time of year she died twenty-seven years later. I don't know what's that supposed to tell you; nothing, except that we take comfort in the symmetries we find in life because they suggest a design where there is none.

At the moment the postman rang the bell, Litvinoff's pen has been poised above a blank piece of paper, his eyes watery with revelation, filled with the feeling that he was on the verge o understanding the essence of something. But when the bell rang the thought was lost, and Litvinoff, ordinary again, dragged his feet down the dark hallway and opened the door where the mailman stood in the sunlight.

So intent was Frank upon solving the puzzle of Lemarchand's box that he didn't hear the great bell begin to ring.

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets her wings.

When Memory rings her bell, let all the thoughts run in.

If you happen to be out at night on the bike path without a light, ring your bell constantly. No bell? Then sing "Hotel Yorba" on a continuous loop, loud enough to warn the unseen.

I sort of loved the bustle of a thousand questions. Women are inherently kind of multitaskers.

Bok Tower stands 205 feet upon the highest point in peninsular Florida. It is an unforgettable sight, a stone monument rising alone on a pristine ridge called Iron Mountain, near the center of the state. "The Singing Tower," as it is known, features a fifty-seven-bell carillon, the centerpiece of the tranquil Bok Tower Gardens, a meditative retreat of unmatched serenity.

One of my sensory problems was hearing sensitivity, where certain loud noises, such as a school bell, hurt my ears. It sounded like a dentist drill going through my ears.

Well, there's a piece of Maria in every song that I sing. And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings. And there is always one last light to turn out and one last bell to ring. And the last one out of the circus has to lock up everything.

She thought it might have been his thought that wakened her, as he crept toward the solitary holding; she thought that the danger in his thoughts had reached out to awaken her as surely as an alarm bell ringing out across the night.

...[M]ay its index point to joy, And moments wing'd with new delights. Sweet may resound each silver bell,— And never quick returning chime, Seem in reproving notes to tell, Of hours mispent, and murder'd time....

We're all going to die, Johnny. Hit the iron bell like it's dinnertime.

Softly drops the crimson sun: Softly down from overhead, Drop the bell-notes, one by one, Melting in the melting red...

We polished off that breakfast like a pair of tigers and went through two pots of coffee. Charlie sat back in his chair, smoking a cigar. There was nothing specious in my happiness. It rang through me like a bell.

Abdication, a great brass bell, solemn, resonant, deafening.

I have a dog named Steve that lives at the studio.