Respect the young and chastise your elders. It's about time the world was set aright.

Sunrise paints the sky with pinks and the sunset with peaches. Cool to warm. So is the progression from childhood to old age.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man!

The sand in the hourglass runs from one compartment to the other, marking the passage of moments with something constant and tangible.

If you watch the flowing sand, you might see time itself riding the granules.

Contrary to popular opinion, time is not an old white-haired man, but a laughing child.

And time sings.

The great miraculous bell of translucent ice is suspended in mid-air.

It rings to announce endings and beginnings. And it rings because there is fresh promise and wonder in the skies.

Its clear tones resound in the placid silence of the winter day, and echo long into the silver-blue serenity of night.

The bell can only be seen at the turning of the year, when the days wind down into nothing, and get ready to march out again.

When you hear the bell, you feel a tug at your heart.

It is your immortal inspiration.

No one who is young is ever going to be old.