Everyone rushed toward the chapel, and someone carried out the true blessed madman pope high in the air. At that moment, everyone took a look, astonished beyond words and sighed: it turned out that this strange look was his true face!
To put it more appropriately, his whole person is a strange face. A big head, red
brown hair up; two shoulders between the shrug of a large hunchback, with its counterpart is the front of the chicken chest bulging; thighs and calves, seven twisted, not a posture, between the two legs, only the knee can be barely together, from the front, like two crescent-shaped scythe, only the handle of the knife to join together; a wide foot, a huge immense palms; and, so a monstrous body, but with a terrible physique that is hard to describe: energetic, athletic, and courageous.
Force and beauty come from harmony, which is the law of eternity, but this is the exception, and the exception is bizarre! This is the Pope the madmen have just chosen.
What is love?
It is a magical addition: one thought added to another makes a fifteenth moon.
It is a round of extraordinary hearing: even across thousands of mountains, you can hear each other's excited heartbeats.
It's a wonderful string of language: it can be as soft and tender as smoke, or as windy and amazing.
It is a strong lock: it locks the words of intimate lovers like love and words into the dream of memory.
It is a kind of special kind of letter: what is packed inside is a sweet kiss, and what is sent out is an affectionate greeting.
It's hard to describe the kind of joy he enjoyed on those days when the bells and music played in unison. He climbed up the spiral staircase of the bell tower faster than anyone else could get down, every time the bishop let go of him and said, "Go on. Panting, he ran into the room where the bell was kept, gazed at it meditatively and caressingly for a moment, then spoke to it tenderly, patting it with his hand as if he were treating a good horse about to start on a long gallop, and expressing his pity for the toil it was about to undergo. Having thus soothed it, he roared and summoned the rest of the bells on the next floor into action, which were hanging on thick ropes. The winch rattled, and the huge round metal object slowly swayed. "Whoa!" He suddenly erupted into a frenzy of laughter and yelling as the clock's turmoil grew faster and faster, and Gazimodo's eyes opened wider and brighter as the great clock's swaying reached an even greater amplitude. At last the great ensemble began, and the whole clock-tower shook, and the wooden frame, and the leaden plates, and the stones, all roared at the same time, and rattled from the stakes at the bottom all the way up to the railings at the top of the tower. Then Gazimodo, foaming at the mouth with joy, came and went, and trembled with the bell tower from head to foot. The great bell opened and went mad, and swung its huge copper throat to the right and left corridors of the tower, with a stormy roar that could be heard for four miles, and Gazimodo crouched down and stood up again before the open throat with the back and forth swing of the bell, and he inhaled its astonishing breath, and looked for a moment into the depths of that which was two hundred furlongs down, and for a moment at the great copper tongue that was every minute vibrating in his ears. vibrating with the great tongues of brass, the only words he could hear, the only sounds that could disturb his absolutely silent mind, and there he stretched himself out like a bird spreading its wings in the sunshine. The frenzy of the clock suddenly infected him, and his vision became so peculiar that, like a spider waiting for an insect, he waited for the clock to swing back and at once jumped up and hung on it, so that he hung high in the air, swinging desperately with the clock, grasping the two ears of the airborne monster, leaning on it with both knees, and treading it with both feet, and using his own bodily weight to make the clock swing twice as fast. At this the bell-tower shook, and he, roaring and grinding his teeth, with his hair standing on end, his chest rattling like a bellows, and his eyes shining, and the strange bell hissing gaspingly beneath him, became neither the bell of Notre Dame nor Gazimodo, but a dream, a cyclone, a storm, a kind of dizziness above the clamor, an apparition grasping the flying object, a half-bodied creature, a ghost, a half-bodied creature, a ghost, a half-bodied creature. apparition of a flying object, a monster half man and half bell, an Astolfo attached to the great bronze monster.
He imagined that perhaps she had come back again, that a kind angel must have brought her back, that the cottage was so calm, so solid, so lovely, that it could not be without her in it, and he dared not take a step forward, lest his fancy should be dashed. He said to himself, "Yes, she may still be sleeping, or praying. Do not go and startle her."
The scene that struck me was the author's writing of those buildings of that time, those lavish churches symbolizing power, people didn't know yet that they could have their own minds, and what they could do for their own desires, and that everything pretended to be sacred religion, and everything pretended to be sacred churches to show off, to show off the architect's aesthetics, that is, the individual's talent, or to show off his or her own ability to do something. I think people back then, buried their humanity deep under a veneer of holy religion, typified by the figure of the Vicar General - Claude. From the many intricate and complex complexes, it is not difficult to see how people's hearts were depressed and manic at that time, and the spires of the churches that sprang up from the ground like rain, were the distorted souls of the people who were doing this silent wailing to the heavens!
The inside of the church is so eerie, which reminds people of how dirty and corrupt society was under the cover of religion, and how the religion of truth and goodness and the use of religion to create a bloody event, forming a strong sensory stimulation. The whole book is in such a contrast, let the human mind y appreciate the lost, confused, and uneasy, if there is a sword, you will do your best to pierce the layer of cloud over the society, the cloud is evil,
You are full of anger and contempt for it, just like the book inside the vagabonds to treat the society's crazy revenge. But you can't, because if you want to sting those evils, you'd first have to knock God, who represents truth and goodness, to the ground, and how cruel that would be! Is there anything sadder than the loss of man's nature!
Impressive are such characters, representing the beautiful and kind girl - Esmeralda. She not only has a charming appearance, but also has a pure and kind heart, from her treatment of the goat, to save the downtrodden poet, for the harmed Cazimodo, sent water and mercy, to the sacrifice of love, and so on, we see that she is beautiful, there is no dirt on her body and soul, and she is uncontaminated. But how was such an angel-like girl treated? Wandering, living in the dirtiest environment, being rejected and mocked by the so-called high society, being toyed with, abandoned, falsely accused, threatened, and in the end, making a complete sacrifice.
The book describes a society like that, and the state of the characters in that society, the numbness of the Forbes, the bottom of the hierarchy, such as the rat hole of the hidden nuns, the madness of the vice bishop, and do their best to resist the ugliest of the Cazimedos, the vice bishop and the Cazimedos form the human nature on the stark contrast, the same in love with the beautiful girl, the same rejected, their love is so passionate, and so much love, so much love. Their love is so passionate, so sincere, but one is possession, one is dedication, has been possession for the purpose, when the purpose can not be achieved, he thought of destruction, the destruction of others; dedication for the purpose, when unable to dedication, thought of destruction, the destruction of themselves.
I think this is the real charm of the world's most famous book, he lets people see is not a simple story, he profoundly reveals some of the activities of the deepest part of the human heart, no matter when it is placed in what time, what society, the **** nature of human beings is always there, the desire for the good, the pursuit of the good, and the praise of the good, human beings are a synthesis of the angels and devils, the human being and the human being's experience is not the The same, that is to say, society itself can not allow all people to enjoy the same treatment, this different treatment, so how many people's hearts lose balance, lose the pursuit of the good a! The dirty trickery,
floods our eyes and oscillates our hearts, what should we do?
It's hard work lol~lz
Not enough 20 You can split it down the middle to copy it...then again I used to do that