Original subtitles

Excellent, sir.

Excellent.

Facts.

Those are facts.

Facts.

Mark that children.

Facts alone are wanted in life.

Plant nothing else.

And root out everything else.

The minds of reasoning animals,

and that is what you are, and what I am, and that is a fact,

can be properly formed only by facts.

That is the principle on which I bring up my own children.

And in this school you will be brought up on it, too.

Stick to facts, sir, that is your charge here.

Girl number twenty.

Who is that girl?

I don't know that girl.

Sissy Jupe, sir.

Sissy is not a name.

Don't call yourself Sissy.

Call yourself Cecilia.

But it's father always calls me Sissy, sir.

He always did.

Then he has no business to do it. Tell him he mustn't.

Who is your father?

He belongs to horse-riding, if you please, sir.

We don't want to know anything about horse-riding here, don't tell us of that.

And tell him there must be no more Sissy.

Give me your definition of a horse.

Girl number twenty unable to define a horse.

Girl number twenty possessed of no facts

in reference to one of the commonest of animals.

Some boy's definition of a horse.

Yours.

Quadruped.

Graminivorous.

Forty teeth, namely

twenty four grinders, four eye teeth, and twelve incisors.

Sheds coat in spring,

and in marshy countries, sheds hoofs, too.

Hoofs hard, and requiring to be shod with iron.

A horse, sir.

Cecilia Jupe.

Now you know what a horse is.

Yes sir.

Now, boys and girls,

would you paper a room with representations of horses?

The answer is no.

Do you ever see horses walking up and down the walls of rooms in reality,

in fact?

Of course no.

Why, then, you are not to see anywhere, what you don't see in fact.

This is a new principle,

a discovery,

a great discovery.

Now,

if you are proposing to carpet a room,

would you use a carpet with a representation of flowers upon it?

Yes, sir.

Girl number twenty.

So you would use a carpet with representations of flowers upon it.

Why would you?

Sir, I'm fond of flowers.

And have people walking over them in heavy boots?

Well they would be the pictures of what was very pretty and pleasant, sir.

- And I fancy that... - Fancy!

You mustn't fancy.

That's it, you are never to fancy.

You are not to have in any object of use or ornament

what would be a contradiction in fact.

You do not walk upon flowers, in fact,

you cannot be allowed to walk upon flowers in carpets.

Mr M’Choakumchild.

Africa.

Name the countries of central Africa.

The countries of central Africa—

are—

[unintel],

Timbuktu,

[unintel],

Ladies and gentlemen,

our aim is to amaze you,

and to delight you.

Come and see the Magnificent Mandini,

as he walks the tightrope,

at the risk of life and limb,

high above your heads.

See the astonishing feats

of Senor Changa,

as he combines the twin gifts of strength and equilibrium,

to poise one-handed

upon the neck of a wine-bottle.

Graceful Miss Josephine Sleary

will enchant you,

as she performs her Tyrolean Flower Act,

upon the back of her trained steed, Sovreign.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we bring you wonders from the four corners of the earth.

King Tago, a fire-eater from the forests of Africa,

Signor Merino,

the Italian daredevil,

...back-handed over his head,

thus forming a fountain of solid iron in midair.

...Adolphus and the dancing bear!

...and we can offer you the privilege

of viewing the human medical wonder

of the universe!

Ladies and gentlemen,

there is money to be won

by any bold-hearted gentleman of Coketown,

who is ready to challenge

the champion boxer of Bavaria!

Louisa!

Thomas!

In the name of all idleness and folly!

What are you doing here?

We wanted to see what it was like.

This?

Yes.

Thomas, though I have the fact before me,

I cannot believe that you could so readily forget

all your training and bring your sister to a scene like this.

I brought him, father.

I asked him to come with me.

I'm no more pleased to hear that.

It makes Thomas no better.

And you, Louisa, much worse.

What can you both possibly want from this—

frivolity?

Haven't I provided you with a wealth of fascination at home and your schoolroom?

What purpose can this idleness serve you?

We were tired.

Tired?

Tired of what?

Of everything.

That is too childish of you, Louisa.

This is too childish of both of you.

What would our friends say if you were seen here?

What would Mr Bounderby say?

What would Mr Bounderby have to say?

It's wise for a man in his prime to stop and look

where he stands from time to time, Mrs Gradgrind.

Especially—

a bachelor.

There's so much business to attend to,

he's likely to overlook his own condition of life.

Indeed, it's good for him to know what year he's at.

So that he can size up the advancement in his past against the time it took.

And plan his future.

Against the time that's left.

And I'm not frightened to put myself on the weighing scales.

Weigh me against the opportunity my birth

gave me and then you'll see the tonnage of me.

I'm sure you look in—

robust health, Mr Bounderby.

- I only wish— - I am now, ma'am.

But if you'd seen me on my tenth birthday,

you wouldn't have bet a basin of oatmeal that I'd live to stand here now.

Let alone stand as I do.

I was one of the most miserable little wretches ever seen.

I was so sickly, so ragged and dirty,

you wouldn't have touched me

with that pair of tongs.

My tenth birthday I spent in a ditch

and that was proper enough since I was born in one.

I hope 't was a dry one for your poor mother's sake.

A foot of water in it.

Enough to give a baby a cold.

Cold?

I was born with inflammation of the lungs,

and as for my poor mother, as you call her,

I can tell you nothing about her because I never knew her.

She bolted.

Left me to my grandmother,

and I've known that woman lie in her bed and drink

fourteen glasses of liquor before breakfast.

She kept me in an egg box.

You'd like to know how I pulled through it?

I wish I could tell you.

I was—

determined, I suppose.

Nobody threw me a rope.

Schooling?

I learned my letters from the names on the shops.

Learned to tell the time from the steeple clock at St Giles's,

under the direction of a drunken cripple.

I was a vagabond,

errand boy,

laborer,

porter,

clerk,

chief manager,

small partner,

Josiah Bounderby of Coketown.

And those, madam,

are the antecedents,

and the culmination,

of Josiah Bounderby.

You may force him to swallow boiling fat,

but you shall never force him to suppress the facts of his life.

Now then, Grandgrind, two young faces in the

dumps, what's this?

Father caught us at the circus.

An amusement for the illiterate.

Circus!

Oh.

It's enough to make one regret having had a family at all.

I have a great mind to say I wish I hadn't.

Then what would you have done I should like to know.

And why aren't you studying?

You've got shells, and—

minerals, and—

things—

instead of—

circuses!

We've never seen a circus.

No. With my poor head in its—

present state—

it's—

all I could do to remember the—

the mere names of half the facts

you have to attend to.

I'll be down in a few minutes, Mr Bounderby.

There are things I want to talk to you about.

Go to your study.

Tell me what put all this nonsense into your head about circuses.

You could have asked me about these strollers.

I've seen their kind many times on my travels.

How did you come to learn about them, Louisa?

A girl came to the house yesterday morning.

She said she was from the horse riding.

And she wanted to go to father's school.

Since she tries to go to school, if there is one, whatever town her people are in.

Mother called me to speak to the girl

because she had such a timid little voice.

Mother couldn't properly hear what she was saying.

I must go.

Well, that's all right, Louisa.

The child made you inquisitive, I can see that.

You're vexed your father, that's plain.

But I can set this right for you.

Your spirit of inquiry—your father shall understand that.

Now then, Louisa.

That's worth a kiss, isn't it?

You can take one, Mr Bounderby.

Always my pet, aren't you, Louisa?

- Ah. Mr Bounderby. - All right, Gradgrind,

I've a full answer for you,

and you and I are going for a walk.

Let's go and have a look at these vagabonds.

You've a few questions to ask there, I think.

You'll rub a hole in your face, Loo.

You could cut the piece out with your penknife if you like, Tom.

I wouldn't cry.

That girl will have the whole school in the horse riding within a week.

You'd best turn her to the rightabout.

But she did ask to go to my school; that's admirable enough.

You see more good in the world than I do, Gradgrind.

I know these sort of people—I've shared gutters and garrets with them.

There's much of the same spirit in half of my hands.

They won't buckle down.

They hanker for the old, idle days of their hand looms.

Taking their time Monday in bed if you please if it took their fancy.

Now they come begging for a place in my factories.

They want my wages but they won't stomach the discipline of my machines.

Hardly a day goes by without I've got some new deputation in my office,

either the hours are too long, or the breakfast time is too short,

or I'm not paying enough.

We'll have money to spend their nights guzzling

and conspiring in their thieves' kitchens.

I've received some tabular statements from the Teetotal Society.

They do make very grave reading.

Tabular statements, eh?

I've seen more drunkenness than all your tabular statements will show you.

I see the hands,

and the hands drink.

With all your teetotal societies and your Bible Christians and Unitarians

and Connection Methodists and Congregationalists

and Sandemanian Baptists and all the other denominations,

they won't stop the hands drinking and that's about it.

They're a bad lot.

They want a life of venison and turtle soup with a gold spoon.

And I'll tell you this about your denominations, Gradgrind,

There's too much singing and ranting in every one of them.

That's not what we want from religion.

That's your circus and your day off again.

I'm assured they preach industriousness.

It shouldn't need to be argued for.

That is a fact.

If it's argued for, today, it can be argued against, tomorrow.

They're just common working men, half these preachers.

It's your wondering, and your iffing and butting, Gradgrind,

I don't want that from my hands.

True, true. No wondering.

Now you're going to learn something.

See some pretty stuff here.

Mr Jupe!

Is there a Mr Jupe here?

Or Mrs Jupe, then?

Jupe.

[unintel]

I'd like to know the whereabouts of a Mr Jupe.

I haven't a great deal of time to wait.

Come along.

You see, my friend, we are the kind of people who know the value of time,

and you are the kind of people who don't know the value of time.

If you want to cheek us you pay your ochre at the gate.

This is an obtrusive lad!

Oh, we'd have had a young gentleman to meet you if we'd known you was coming.

Stow it, Kidderminster.

There's been no Mother Jupe for six seasons.

And we haven't seen the clown since this morning.

Went off with his bundle, Merrylegs with him.

That's his dog, does tumbles with him.

Took off as soon as sent little girl to school.

He were crying with the drink when he went.

Stow it.

A drunkard, is he?

Not for me to say.

He was a good clown in his time.

Is the girl here alone, then?

She can choose a mother,

father, sister, brother.

No one will refuse her here.

She'll never believe it of him,

but he's cut away and left her.

So he's a rogue and a runaway vagabond; that's what he is, in English.

I'm telling your friend what's the fact.

If you don't like to hear it, you can clear off.

You give it mouth enough, you do, but give it mouth in your own place.

This is our place.

You've got a place of your own, I dare say.

Have you?

Perhaps so.

What's your business with the girl?

Business beyond you, sir.

Who's in charge here?

Sleary's Horse-Riding.

Is there is Sleary? Where is Sleary?

He's in there.

You'll be ready for the spring.

Here's a new clown and a dog, Mr Sleary.

Stow it.

Two more times round the ring, now.

Hold your head up, show the customers your smile.

Mr Sleary, sir.

Am I addressing Mr Sleary?

Squire.

That's me name.

Your servant.

Gradgrind is my name.

This is Mr Bounderby.

I came here to enquire of a Mr Jupe,

your clown, I believe.

His daughter is at my school, my concern is with her.

What'll it be, squire?

Is it to be sherry?

Give it a name, Mr Schoolmaster.

Nothing for me, I thank you.

Mr Gradgrind, sir,

is neither a drinker nor a schoolmaster.

He has the mind of one hundred schoolmasters

He is a gentleman, retired from the hardware business,

and going in for Parliament.

He has established a school based upon his own principles,

but you are not to call him a schoolmaster,

because there is much, much more to this gentleman than that, sir.

It is the matter of the child's presence at my school that I've come about.

She's to attend no more; we'll have no more of her fancy influence.

Is that your message, squire?

It sounds hasty.

It is hasty.

You'll forgive me, Bounderby,

I made no decision like that.

Mr Sleary,

I feel some involvement with this child.

It seems her father sent her to my house, into my school,

as a preparation for his own desertion.

By the look and sound of things, it is desertion, isn't it?

His dog with him and his effects.

I wish he hadn't taken his dog.

It's an inconvenience to have the dog out of the bills.

And yet, Merrylegs would never have performed without his master, so

it's just as broad as it's long!

Is it your intention to do something for the poor girl, squire?

Carefully, Gradgrind.

I have something to propose to her.

I'm very glad to hear it.

Not that I want to be rid of her

any more then I want to stand in her way.

Excuse my voice, squire.

It's a little husky to them as is not used to it.

but if you’d been chilled and heated,

heated and chilled,

chilled and heated in the ring as often as I have,

your voice wouldn't have lasted no more than mine.

Fine stuff, this, for a man that's raised himself.

Help me out with the girl here, squire.

My mind is clear.

I see a duty to this child.

Not one I asked for, but it's here all the same.

The child is distressed.

An infernal shame upon us all, it is.

Where is he?

An't he come back yet?

He will, I know he will, he sent me for the nine oils.

There's no sign of him yet, Sissy.

No news yet.

What's the use of this "yet," sir?

Tell the girl straight— let me tell her, since I was

run away from before I could talk, let alone being her age.

Child,

the fact of it is, that your father has absconded,

and you mustn't expect to see him again as long as you live.

I tell you what, squire!

I suggest you speak plain and short, now.

And don't give your friend any time to say any more of that kind.

They're very good natur'd people, my people are,

but they’re accustomed to be very quick in their movements;

and one more ounce of that out of him,

and damned if I don't believe they'll pitch you both in the canal.

I'll be practical.

Jupe.

Listen to me.

Whether your father is coming back soon or some time in the future,

is something none of us knows.

The fact is, he is gone now,

and some provision must be made for you.

I'm willing to take charge of you, to care for you in my home.

Where I hope you'll make yourself useful.

Especially to Mrs Gradgrind, who is ailing.

And to educate you.

The only conditions I make are,

that you decide whether to accept my offer now, at once.

And that if you come with me,

you undertake not to communicate with your friends here.

That is the whole of the case from me.

Except to remind you that your father appears to

have recognized the value of a sound education.

On the other side of the banner, m'dear,

is this offer from me.

You can be apprenticed here,

and you know the work.

My wife will be a mother to you.

And Josephine a sister.

I don't pretend to be of the angel breed,

and I don't say that I shan't swear an oath or two at you.

I never did a horse or a rider an injury yet.

And I don't suppose I should change my nature at my time of life.

That's where I stand.

When father comes back,

how will he know where to find me?

If he comes to me I shall tell him where you are.

And Mr Gradgrind will have no power to keep you.

He knows that.

So be it, m'dear.

My last words to you is this.

Stick to the terms of the arrangement.

Be obedient to the squire.

And forget us.

But if, when you were grown up and are married

and are well-off,

you come across any of the horse-riding ever,

don't be hard on it,

don't be cross with it.

People must be amused, squire.

They can't always be working or learning.

Make the best of us.

Not the worst, squire.

Collect your things, Cecilia.

I brought the bottle for father.

It's the nine oils, t' rub him with.

The nine oils; for hurts in the ring.

My people bruise themselves often badly.

Let me keep it for your father.

He'll want it when he comes back, Sissy.

Isn't the Gradgrind boy too young to be of use in your office?

He has his education to finish first, Mrs Sparsit.

That boy never know his good fortune.

At his age, I'd been forced to make myself of use in a dozen offices and warehouses.

Nobody offered me a mild start,

an hand,

and an exchange of one bed of feathers for another just as soft.

Paving-stone was my bed.

But I shouldn't talk to you about paving-stones and warehouses, should I?

You know nothing about that, do you.

When it was paving-stones and attics and warehouses for me, it was the opera,

and May Fair,

and lords,

and honourables,

and white satin and jewel for you.

Wasn't it?

Come on, madam, admit it. You were born in the lap of luxury, weren't you?

Certainly, sir, I was familiar with the Italian opera at a very early age.

And crack society weren't you, in tiptop fashion.

That's true.

My own family are Scadgers.

But my late husband was a Paola on his mother's side.

Had he possessed a fraction of your business acumen,

I should not now be managing your household for you.

I trust you're satisfied, sir.

Coming from the scum of the earth as I do, madam,

I am privileged to have your delicate services here.

And I hope I've learned to accommodate myself to life's changes.

You seem unusually slow, sir, with your breakfast this morning.

Is there something unpalatable?

I can't get this—

whim of Gradgrind's out of my head.

This business of taking in the tumbling girl.

It seems generous of Mr Gradgrind.

Not the company I'd choose for the little puss.

Why "little puss?"

Are you referring to young Miss Gradgrind?

I ask because there are two little girls in question.

I'm speaking of Louisa, madam.

Louisa.

You're quite another father to little Miss Gradgrind.

Give an example?

Isolead, being solid, will become liquid by receiving a sufficient accession of heat.

What is the name given to this process?

Fusion or liquefaction.

I'm tired, Loo.

There's a lot more to do yet, Tom.

What is conjulation?

Are you well, lad?

Missed you going home from work.

Did you leave early?

Sometimes we're early, sometimes we're late, you know that.

Better we don't walk too much together.

There's some as laugh at us for keeping our distance, you know.

What sin would it be if we sat together and sang together and prayed together?

Better not to.

It can't be.

Aye, it'd to make folk talk, wouldn't it?

Even about you.

But if some laugh at us,

why not let others talk, eh?

It can't be.

There might come a time.

It's hard to think it can't be.

It's hard as it is.

But I take your word as law,

and a bright, good law it is, too.

Better than some real ones.

Let the laws be, Stephen, don't fret about them, let them be, lad.

Yes, let them be.

Let everything be.

It's a muddle and that's all.

Always a muddle.

Yes, lass, always a muddle.

That's where I stick.

I get into a muddle a million times and I never get beyond it.

Good night, dear lad.

Good night Rachel.

God's mercy!

- Woman. - Back!

Yes, again.

And again and again.

Yes, why not?

I'll have you sold off, again and again and again!

Homogenous solids dilate equally throughout their volume.

Thomas.

Explain combustion.

Certain bodies, when surrounded by atmospheric air,

being heated to a certain degree, will enter into a chemical combination;

the oxygen gas which forms one of the constituents of the atmosphere.

And Louisa, what is the consequence of that combining?

The combination will be attended with a large development of heat,

which is accompanied usually by incandescence and flame.

Thus

the gaslight.

Excellent, children.

Indeed, yes.

How satisfying is the possession of fact,

that disperses any mystery concerning our daily life.

For tomorrow, I wish you to learn

section sixteen

from Connection of the Physical Sciences.

From the paragraph,

"The atmosphere is not homogeneous,

it appears, from analysis, that of one hundred parts,

seventy nine are azotic gas and twenty one oxygen,

a great source of combustion and animal heat.

These proportions are found to be the same at all heights

hitherto attained by man."

To the paragraph,

"Shellfish which have the power of producing a vaccuum,

adhere to the rocks by this pressure of fifteen pounds

upon every square inch of contact."

Thank you, children.

Do you know what I wish, Loo?

I wish I could gather all the facts in the world,

all the figures,

and all the people who found them out.

And I wish I could put a thousand pounds of gunpowder under them,

and blow the whole lot up.

I'm tired of everything, I hate everybody,

except you.

Wish I knew how to talk to you, to—

lighten your mind.

When I go to live with Bounderby, things will change.

Mr Bounderby thinks just as father thinks.

I know how to manage old Bounderby, though.

- How? - Through you.

You're his little pet.

He'll do anything for you.

Whenever he says anything to me I don't like,

I'll only have to say,

My sister Loo will be hurt and disappointed in you, Mr Bounderby.

That'll bring him round.

Fire away, Blackpool.

There's just one thing, though.

This lady here,

Mrs Sparsit,

is a high-born lady.

You are not to suppose that because she keeps my house for me,

that she has not been very high up the tree.

At the top of the tree.

So if you have anything to say that shouldn't be said before a born lady,

then this lady will leave the room.

I asked to see you in private, sir.

This is private, Blackpool.

Private enough for you.

So out with it, lad.

I've come, sir, because—

I need your advice.

I need it bad.

I was married on Easter Monday nineteen years since.

Yes, I know about this. I know all my hands, madam.

It's my business to know.

I know the ones who expect to be set up in a coach and six,

and to be fed on turtle soup and venison with a gold spoon.

Will you hear me out, sir?

I know about you and your wife; she took to drink, gave up working.

Sold the furniture, pawned the clothes.

And generally played old gooseberry, right?

I was patient with her.

Well you made a mistake.

But I know about this, what do you want with me?

She went from bad to worse and then worse still.

I tried and tried, but—

I'd come home and find everything I had in this world

vanished not once but twenty times.

She'd leave me but she'd come back and back.

I'd walk the streets all night sooner than go home.

I've come near to drowning myself off bridge.

- Yes— - I've paid her to keep away from me

for five years, I've paid her, and she stayed away, but last night—

she came back.

Was it an unequal marriage in terms of years?

I were twenty one, she were nearly twenty.

I only ask because often unequal ages are the cause of unsatisfactory marriages.

Go on, Blackpool, what's next.

Come to ask you, sir,

how I'm to be rid of this woman.

Well you took her better or worse, man, you can't be rid of her.

There must be.

I've read in the papers that

great folk are not bonded together as fast as we.

They can live asunder and marry again.

I want to be free of this woman,

and I want to know how.

Free of her?

Sir,

if I do her any hurt,

there's a law to punish me, isn't there?

There is.

If I desert her,

there's a law to punish me.

Of course.

If I marry another,

there's a law to punish me.

Of course, again.

If I live with her without marrying her,

there's a law to punish every innocent child we have.

Yes.

Well then in God's name,

show me a law to help me.

Well, there is such a law,

but it is not for the likes of you.

Not at all.

Cost you a mint of money.

How much.

Well, you'd have to go to lawyers in chambers, and then you'd have to go to—

a court of Common Law, and then you'd have to go to the House of Lords

and get an Act of Parliament to enable you to marry again.

Might cost you—

I suppose—

anything between one thousand, fifteen hundred pounds?

Could cost you twice that.

There's no other way?

Certainly not.

Ah it's a muddle.

Sooner I'm dead, the better for me.

Don't you call the laws and institutions of your country a muddle, my lad,

or you'll find yourself in a real muddle one of these fine mornings.

Don't talk about things you don't understand.

The only thing you've got to do is to buckle down to your work—what—

what have you got to do with the law? Nothing! You just—

mind you—ah— Tell you what, Blackpool.

I always thought you were one of the steady hands.

But from you've just been saying, it looks to me as if you're taking the wrong road.

Are you shocked, madam? Y-you see?

You've offended this lady with your unhallowed views.

I see traces of the turtle soup and venison and gold spoon about you, yes I do.

By the Lord Harry, I do!

Thank you, sir.

Good day, sir.

Your young lady fetched me.

[inaud]

I get everything wrong, I know I do.

There are lots of mistakes.

You seem to go by the sound of words.

Or by their letters.

You mean National Prosperity I think.

Not natural.

I expect so.

You're going to withdraw from the school at the end of the month.

Won't have to worry about such matters soon.

Mr Gradgrind says I've disappointed him, Miss Louisa.

He says I'm extremely—

deficient.

In your facts.

Yes, in my facts, Miss Louisa.

My mother would be pleased.

You'll be able to give her all your attention in the house.

She likes having you about her.

I think so, Miss.

Did your father know so much that he wishes you to be well taught too?

But Mr Gradgrind says I must never talk about it.

No one hears us.

What was he like?

Could he read and write?

Well, it was as much as he could do to write.

It's more than people in general can do to read his writing.

I can read it.

When he writes to me I'll be able to read it.

I used to read this book to him.

- What was it? - It was about fairies, miss.

And a dwarf, and—

Sultan.

The old lady who used to tell her Sultan stories about magic.

Mr Gradgrind said it was all destructive nonsense, miss.

My father loved it.

He loved me, Miss Louisa.

Could your mother read?

Don't know.

She died when I was very small.

She was a dancer.

Why did your father leave you if he loved you as you say he did?

Only for my good.

I understand why he did it.

You see he knew that I'd never leave him.

To go to school and to better myself.

And he had to travel about country all t' time.

Making people laugh.

Only sometimes they wouldn't laugh.

Lately they hardly ever laughed.

And that made father sad.

When he was alone with me, he used to feel—

shrunk up.

He was scared and trembling.

He kept saying he was a helpless, ignorant man.

Tell me how your father left you.

Now I've asked so much, you tell me the end of the story.

Well, night before,

when he got back from t' booth,

he sat a long time,

rocking in front of t' fire.

He wouldn't speak,

although I kept asking him if he'd hurt himself.

They all do, sometimes.

I could see he was crying.

And the more I asked him, the more he hid his face.

Then he shook all over.

He took me in his arms, and he said,

"My darling.

My love."

That was all.

My darling, my love.

My darling my love.

I see his face.

Over and over.

My darling, my love.

Why are you staring at the fire?

Think about

red flame

coming out of

cold black coal.

And I look at the red sparks

dropping out of the flame, and

whitening,

dying.

Makes me think how short my life will be.

How little I can hope to do in it.

Subtitles by: The Hampstead Titlebats