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The bells gave tongue: Gaude, Sabaoth, John, Jericho, Jubilee, Dimity, Batty Thomas and Tailor Paul, rioting and exulting high up in the dark tower, wide mouths rising and falling, brazen tongues clamouring, huge wheels turning to the dance of the leaping ropes. Tin tan din dan bim bam bom bo--tan tin din dan bam bim bo bom--tan dan tin bam din bo bim bom--every bell in her place striking tuneably, hunting up, hunting down, dodging, snapping, laying her blows behind, making her thirds and fourths, working down to lead the dance again. Out over the flat, white wastes of fen, over the spear-straight, steel-dark dykes and the wind-bent, groaning poplar trees, bursting from the snow-choked louvres of the belfry, whirled away southward and westward in gusty blasts of clamour to the sleeping counties went the music of the bells--little Gaude, silver Sabaoth, strong John and Jericho, glad Jubilee, sweet Dimity and old Batty Thomas, with great Tailor Paul bawling and striding like a giant in the midst of them. Up and down went the shadows of the ringers upon the walls, up and down went the scarlet sallies flickering roofwards and floorwards, and up and down, hunting in their courses, went the bells of Fenchurch St. Paul. ↗
Who cares about my voice? There are more important things going on in the world. I want to make a difference. I’m going to law school. I want to become a public defender.” I couldn’t believe she’d give up singing to work with scumbags like me. “By the time a guy ends up in front of the judge, it’s too late to make a difference.” “It’s never too late to make a difference,” she said. “All I’m saying is that with your music you could have an influence on people before they end up in trouble. ↗
A pity it is evening, yet I do love the water of this spring seeing how clear it is, how clean; rays of sunset gleam on it, lighting up its ripples, making it one with those who travel the roads; I turn and face the moon; sing it a song, then listen to the sound of the wind amongst the pines. ↗
Saatnya angin berbau asin datang dari laut. Hari ini, aku akan bermain gekkin untukmu. Suara denting senar melebur bersama udara, meresap dalam panca indera. Terlihat seperti wewangian apakah nada-nada ini... Dengan terlahirnya lagu ini, keberadaanmu mendapatkan makna baru. Kalau bersedia, bernyanyilah bersamaku. Masih ada waktu sebelum gelap. Waktu yang paling indah. ↗
-"Great! Fucking! News! What would be the best thing that could ever happen?” -“If after I died, I was reincarnated as Meg White?” -“Okay, the second-best thing. ↗
