Narration Reel
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Lady Rose stood in the great hall of the castle while the servants ran around her. The shutters were open and the dust sparkled on the Sunbeams. Dicken! She cried as she caught sight of the jester through the clouds of dust. Run up the Mortimer flag. The man put on his comical face. Why, mistress? I can run up a hill and run up the stairs, but I cannot run up a flag. Lady Rose had a pretty enough face, but her lips were thin and twisted into a sour smile. Save your jests for when my Lord returns home. You know full well what I mean when I say Run up the flag, I mean, run the flag up the flag. Pearl Otto, one of the peasants to do it **** and muttered under his breath. It's a strange thought. We take it for granted that happiness is a birthright. A sign of a life successfully lived. We talk about being happy or otherwise, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to understand. It seems so straightforward that were supposed to find We can't put our finger on what it really means, and it seems to come so undeniably from within that it's a shock to find out that our understanding of happiness is a social and historical construct akin to many other questions of ethics and morality. So far, we've seen some of the problems inherent in the modern idea of happiness and the importance of having some sort of control over our relationship with this fundamental aspect of life. Now, in order to understand how to improve our levels of happiness, we need to take a step back and see what such an idea amounts to. Modern science had puzzled over the source of the sun's heat for centuries, so replacing long held mythology with an evidence based explanation for its extraordinary power was not easy. Was the son simply born incredibly hot and began to gradually call as it shared its heat with the solar system? Or was there some kind of mechanism that was generating heat from within? Gravitational contraction, perhaps? Or was the heat produced by meteorites falling into the star? The barman reeled for a moment, hit by a shocking, incomprehensible sense of distance. He didn't know what it meant, but he looked at Ford prefect with a new sense of respect almost. Or are you serious, sir? He said in a small whisper, which had the effect of silence in the pub. You think the world's going to end? Yes, said Ford, but this afternoon, thought have recovered himself. Yes, he said Gailey. In less than two minutes, I would estimate the barman couldn't believe the conversation he was having. But he couldn't believe the sensation he had just had either. Isn't there anything we can do about it? Then he said. No, nothing, said Ford, stuffing the peanuts into his pockets.