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Like you, I am frequently haunted by profound questions related to man's
place in the Scheme of Things. Here are just a few:
Q -- Is there life after death?
A -- Definitely. I speak from personal experience here. On New
Year's Eve, 1970, I drank a full pitcher of a drink called "Black Russian",
then crawled out on the lawn and died within a matter of minutes, which was
fine with me because I had come to realize that if I had lived I would have
spent the rest of my life in the grip of the most excruciatingly painful
headache. Thanks to the miracle of modern orange juice, I was brought back
to life several days later, but in the interim I was definitely dead. I
guess my main impression of the afterlife is that it isn't so bad as long
as you keep the television turned down and don't try to eat any solid foods.
-- Dave Barry
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Likewise, the national appetizer, brine-cured herring with raw onions,
wins few friends, Germans excepted.
-- Darwin Porter "Scandinavia On $50 A Day"
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Limericks are art forms complex,
Their topics run chiefly to sex.
They usually have virgins,
And masculine urgin's,
And other erotic effects.
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"Lines that are parallel meet at Infinity!"
Euclid repeatedly, heatedly, urged.
Until he died, and so reached that vicinity:
in it he found that the damned things diverged.
-- Piet Hein
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Linus: Hi! I thought it was you.
I've been watching you from way off... You're looking great!
Snoopy: That's nice to know.
The secret of life is to look good at a distance.
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Linus: I guess it's wrong always to be worrying about tomorrow.
Maybe we should think only about today.
No, that's giving up. I'm still hoping that yesterday
will get better.
|Freebsd Fortunes 4: 2276 of 2327|
Linus: I guess it's wrong always to be worrying about tomorrow. Maybe
we should think only about today.
No, that's giving up. I'm still hoping that yesterday will get
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There is no heavier burden than a great potential.
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Lions in the street and roaming,
Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming,
A beast caged in the heart of the city.
The body of his mother lying in the summer ground,
He fled the town.
Went down south across the border,
Left the chaos and disorder
Back there, over his shoulder.
One morning he awoke in a green hotel,
A strange creature groaning beside him.
Sweat oozed from its shiny skin.
Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin.
-- Jim Morrison, "Celebration of the Lizard"
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To call a spade a thpade.