Noon bells sang out with their usual ignorance of mood, marking out moments of grief and worry, elation and confusion. The bells said that at its core, human life was fundamentally a sort of organic clockwork, while the winds and skylarks that swept against the sound of metronomic iron timekeeping argued for variety, subtlety, epiphany.

I refuse to allow you, Beadle though you are, to turn me off the grass

Belief, hard work, love–you have those things, you can do anything.

Youth is the best time to be rich, and the best time to be poor.

Written By Euripides

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