He ll still get up from time to time and wag his head and let us know how tired he is, but it s not a complaint or excuse or warning any more — he s finished with that; it s like an old clock that won t tell time but won t stop neither, with the hands bent out of shape and the face bare of numbers and the alarm bell rusted silent, an old, worthless clock that just keeps ticking and cuckooing without meaning nothing.
Источник
Кен Кизи. Над кукушкиным гнездом
