A Quote by Anne Rice

Hell's Bells ringing, my secret music. — © Anne Rice
Hell's Bells ringing, my secret music.
The church-bells of innumerable sects are all chime-bells to-day, ringing in sweet accordance throughout many lands, and awaking a great joy in the heart of our common humanity.
Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night, While the stars that oversprinkle All the Heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- From the jingling and the tingling of the bells.
Our bells are worn threadbare with ringing for victories
Global climate change needs global action now. The alarm bells ought to be ringing in every capital of the world.
I want a state funeral with bells ringing across the land! Then I'd love the congregation to do the hokey cokey and for can-can girls to dance down the aisle. I've already bought the plot in Worcestershire next to my parents.
Hear the bells ringing they're singing "Christ is risen from the dead!" The angel up on the tombstone said, He is risen just as he said!
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!
[On the ringing of her doorbell or telephone:] What fresh hell is this?
A thing resounds when it rings true, Ringing all the bells inside of you, Like a golden sky on a summer eve Your heart is tugging at your sleeve, And you cannot say why... There must be more
If you were to close your eyes and walk into a place of worship, the sounds and smells would alert you to where you were: ringing bells, incense, the rumble of a massive organ. Most brands are lacking these sensory stimuli.
Every Christmas should begin with the sound of bells, and when I was a child mine always did. But they were sleigh bells, not church bells, for we lived in a part of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, where there were no churches.
From the Nonphysical, you created you, and now from the physical, you continue to create - and we are nothing if we are not flow-ers of Energy. We must have objects of attention, that are ringing our bells, in order to feel the fullness of who we are - flowing through us - for the continuation of All-That-Is. That is what puts the eternalness in eternity.
When you write about a Muslim woman, like I did with my previous novels - 'Minaret', for example, which is about a woman who starts to wear the hijab - it sets all the alarm bells ringing.
I took a sheet of paper, divided it into debt and credit columns on the arguments for and against God and immortality. On Christmas Eve I wrote 'bankrupt' at the foot. And it was on Christmas morning 1895, after I had celebrated three Masses, while the bells of the parish church were ringing out the Christmas message of peace, that, with great pain, I found myself far out from the familiar land--homeless, aimlessly drifting. But the bells were right after all; from that hour on I have been wholly free from the nightmare of doubt that had lain on me for ten years.
I was the only kid at Camp Don Bosco who would admit he was an alter boy back home, so I served two masses a day all summer. But I loved the cassock and surplice, ringing the bells, lighting the candles - it was like being a glamrock roadie for God.
What is Music? How do you define it? Music is a calm moonlit night, the rustle of leaves in Summer. Music is the far off peal of bells at dusk! Music comes straight from the heart and talks only to the heart: it is Love! Music is the Sister of Poetry and her Mother is sorrow!
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