Thomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, Venice

Thomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, VeniceJean Francois Millet The Walk to WorkJean Francois Millet The Angelus
YES.
‘With all them sands of time pouring through?’
YES.
‘Everyone’s got one?’
YES.
‘So you know how long I’ve -‘
YES.
‘It must be very odd, knowing . . . the kind of things you know . . .’
DO NOT ASK ME.
‘meagre handful of streets and over the cobbles of the square. There was no-one else around. In cities like Ankh-Morpork midnight was just late evening, because there was no civic night at all, just evenings fading into dawns. But here people regulated their lives by things like sunsets and mispronounced cockcrows. Midnight meant what it said.
Even with the storm stalking the hills, the square itself was hushed. The ticking of the clock in its tower, unnoticeable at midday, now seemed to echo off the buildings.
As they approached, something whirred deep in its cogwheeled innards. That’s not fair, you know. If we knew when we were going to die, people would live better lives.’IF PEOPLE KNEW WHEN THEY WERE GOING TO DIE, I THINK THEY PROBABLY WOULDN’T LIVE AT ALL.‘Oh, very gnomic. And what do you know about it, Bill Door?’EVERYTHING.Binky trotted up one of the town’s
The minute hand moved with a clonk, and shuddered to a halt on the 9. A
trapdoor opened in the clock face and two little mechanical figures whirred