In the library

Someone in the belltower is way overenthused, so that I am trying to read this: "If there exists a "discourse" which is not a mere depository of thin linguistic layers, an archive of structures, or the testimony of a withdrawn body, and is, instead, the essential element of a practice involving the sum of unconscious, subjective, and social relations in gestures of confrontation and appropriation, destruction and construction--productive violence, in short--it is "literature" or, more specifically, the text"*

and hearing this:

Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells, bells, bells
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.**

It's been going on for at least half an hour. "Bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells" indeed. If it continues I'm going to have no problem achieving the "schizophrenic flow" of which I have been reading.

*Julia Kristeva
**Edgar Allen Poe