Chimes Quotes

“Each of us has a cuckoo clock inside of them.For some it never chimes.For some it chimes only intermittently.For some it chimes on every hour.While for others it never stops chiming.Think about it!”

“Each of us has a cuckoo clock inside of them.For some it never chimes.For some it chimes only intermittently.For some it chimes on every hour.While for others it never stops chiming.Think about it!”

“It's no use talking about the 'Doomsday Clock' when it has already chimed. But, alas, the chimes fell on deaf ears.”

“You can learn things from a heart so bleedingWhen love bargains with deceitful pleading Hours soar from dawn to dawn splitting your time Don’t hear melody from a soundless chime”

“People are looking for chimes and resonances. Chimes leave echoes, and that's what rhyme is. Poetry is about leaving an echo imprint in somebody else's head, in the dark snow of their mind.”

“A new heart for a New Year, always!”

“So may the New Year be a happy one to you, happy to many more whose happiness depends on you!”

“I’m looking for youin the bare corridor where my shadow is the only passerbyharmonizing an unsettling whisper: echoed through my chiming thoughtsFrom the poem 'Looking For You”

“It was long past midnight. Laura's music played on. It was composed in the language of stars, tinkling in a crystal pool suspended from constellations. She used chimes now and then, the chimes that characterized every patio in Arizona, the piano, the trees combed by wind. A prelude to a storm. It was like discovering the secret room in a dream of your house that holds all the magic. It was music I wished I lived inside. Around us, cactus, hills filled with jumping cholla, the heat of August like another animal heaving over us.”

“Usually, the murmur that rises up from Paris by day is the city talking; in the night it is the city breathing; but here it is the city singing. Listen, then, to this chorus of bell-towers - diffuse over the whole the murmur of half a million people - the eternal lament of the river - the endless sighing of the wind - the grave and distant quartet of the four forests placed upon the hills, in the distance, like immense organpipes - extinguish to a half light all in the central chime that would otherwise be too harsh or too shrill; and then say whetehr you know of anything in the world more rich, more joyous, more golden, more dazzling, than this tumult of bells and chimes - this furnace of music - these thousands of brazen voices, all singing together in flutes of stone three hundred feet high, than this city which is but one orchestra - this symphony which roars like a tempest.”

“He doesn't jingle my chimes.”