Quotes About Bells

I love when an artist can stand by themselves and play their guitar and hold a crowd, but I also love bells and whistles.

Gimmerton chapel bells were still ringing and the full, mellow flow of the beck in the valley came soothingly on the ear. It was a sweet substitute for the yet absent murmur of the summer foliage, which drowned that music about the Grange when the trees were in leaf.

It was not Death, for I stood up, And all the Dead, lie down— It was not Night, for all the Bells Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

TO my quick ear the leaves conferred; The bushes they were bells; I could not find a privacy From Nature's sentinels. In cave if I presumed to hide, The walls began to tell; Creation seemed a mighty crack To make me visible.

Come with me this morning to the church within our hearts, where the bells are always ringing, and the preacher whose name is love — shall intercede for us!

To my quick ear the Leaves — conferred — The Bushes — they were Bells — I could not find a Privacy From Nature's sentinels — In Cave if I presumed to hide The Walls — begun to tell — Creation seemed a mighty Crack — To make me visible —

See, that's what God's voice was to me. When I was a kid, I thought God's voice was the church bells,

I remember the noise of the bells ringing at school as the effigy of Guy Fawkes we'd prepared earlier was carried out on a canvas stretcher, hoisted on to the huge bonfire and set alight. Then the revelry would begin. My school friends and I would all have sparklers we passed around, lighting one from another.

There the rose of joy bloomed immortal by dale and stream; clouds never darkened the sunny sky; sweet bells never jangled out of tune; and kindred spirits abounded.

Listen to the bells ringing in Rainbow Valley! I never heard them so clearly. They're ringing for peace--and new happiness--and all the dear, sweet, sane, homey things that we can have again now, Miss Oliver.

Listen to the bells ringing in Rainbow Valley! I never heard them so clearly. They're ringing for peace--and new happiness--and all the dear, sweet, sane, homey things that we can have again now, Miss Oliver. Not that I am sane just now--I don't pretend to be. The whole world is having a little crazy spell today. Soon we'll sober down--and 'keep faith'--and begin to build up our new world. But just for today let's be mad and glad.

Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason Why the gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent To blow up the King and Parli'ment. Three-score barrels of powder below To prove old England's overthrow; By God's providence he was catch'd With a dark lantern and burning match. Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

the same metaphors and themes sound again and again in mystic discourse, like a muffled peal of bells in English change-ringing.

the environment. Silly things. Porcelain bells, the kind you get at souvenir shops. Cookie cutters you'll never use, because who needs a cookie in the shape of a foot?

I suppose everybody has a mental picture of the days of the week, some seeing them as a circle, some as an endless line, and others again, for all I know, as triangles and cubes. Mine is a wavy line proceeding to infinity, dipping to Wednesday which is the colour of old silver dark with polishing and rising again to a pale gold Sunday. This day has a feeling in my picture of warmth and light breezes and sunshine and afternoons that stretch to infinity and mornings full of far-off bells.

Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everything That's how the light gets in.

But one sound always rose above the clamor of busy life and, no matter how much of a tintinnabulation, was never confused and, fora moment lifted everything into an ordered sphere: that of the bells.

And in part because there are so many kids, they run the schools like factories, or, dare I say, jails. You're put in lines, moved when the bells ring, allowed to run around in a high-fenced yard once a day. None of this is conducive to deep thinking or creativity. You start to go deep into a subject, and a bell rings to pull you out of it.

There is a lot of talk in publishing these days that we need to become more like the Internet: We need to make books for short attention spans with bells and whistles - books, in short, that are as much like 'Angry Birds' as possible. But I think that's a terrible idea.

Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everything That's how the light gets in. —"ANTHEM" BY LEONARD COHEN

His soul was a steeple in which all the bells had begun to clash at once.

Life itself was only futility, vain words, a squabble of cap and bells.

The mere wit is only a human bauble. He is to life what bells are to horses-not expected to draw the load, but only to jingle while the horses draw.

Keeping time, time, time,In a sort of Runic rhyme,To the tintinnabulation that so musically wellsFrom the bells, bells, bells, bells,Bells, bells, bells.