dennis scharnberg

November 2, 2007.  Rally round the worst word of all:  same.

                                             Reginald Boyington,  Dear Dreadful Diary.

My prayer on a frozen day went like this:  “Please let the lights come back on, Lord.  That way, I can stop having thoughts.”

Tate LaBianca, Four and Twenty Blackbirds.

At the spur of the moment, I think zigzag.  Only later do I straighten out my thoughts.

Lawrence Rittle, The Fundamentals of Confusion.

We do not know the world anymore.  We have long since devoted ourselves to images.  And here’s the grabber: We do not know images either.

Thomas Bedlam, Jackdaws and the Problem of Speech.

Living:   relentless distraction.

Internet:   silly little kids.

Callista Ralph,  Alphabet Soup.

“What lovely wallpaper,”  thought Cassandra.  “But that’s to be expected, I suppose.  Surely, anything with a design is most wonderful!”

                                          Thaddeus Crewes, Crowded Evil World.

How much does scenery mean to me?  What is scenery, after all?  Where will I find it?

Alice Trinculo, Speaking to Sparrows.

What, if anything, is wrong with this:  “He thought, therefore he was”?

                                                  Nigel Swoone, Old Theories of Time.

“Don’t we all really want to be Journalists?  Isn’t that what life is all about?  I mean, really?”

Carla Marks,  The Murder Matter.