Sorus wrote:(Someone should change the name of the thread to 'Unforgettable Opening Paragraphs'!)
Done.
Doeke Algra, born in Menaldum, Friesland, twenty-eight years ago, was experiencing feelings of extreme happiness. He had been uplifted by such euphoria before, when, on his father's lap, he was watching doggies. There were never any doggies, but their mysterious absence was part of the happiness. Doeke Algra, Sr., at that time filled with the strength of his young adult life, had to work hard for a living and liked to relax after dinner, and little Doeke preferred to jump and wriggle. He could sit still but only if there was a Purpose. "The doggies will be coming by the window in a minute," father Algra would say and cuddle his offspring, and together they kept looking through the narrow window of a lowly laborer's cottage set between gnarled willow trees, and enjoyed each other's warmth while the doggies didn't come.
"The universe is made of stories, not atoms." -- Roger Penrose
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
Sorus wrote:(Someone should change the name of the thread to 'Unforgettable Opening Paragraphs'!)
Done.
Apologies to Dromond for the hijacking.
Doeke Algra, born in Menaldum, Friesland, twenty-eight years ago, was experiencing feelings of extreme happiness. He had been uplifted by such euphoria before, when, on his father's lap, he was watching doggies. There were never any doggies, but their mysterious absence was part of the happiness. Doeke Algra, Sr., at that time filled with the strength of his young adult life, had to work hard for a living and liked to relax after dinner, and little Doeke preferred to jump and wriggle. He could sit still but only if there was a Purpose. "The doggies will be coming by the window in a minute," father Algra would say and cuddle his offspring, and together they kept looking through the narrow window of a lowly laborer's cottage set between gnarled willow trees, and enjoyed each other's warmth while the doggies didn't come.
I don't know what that's from, but it'll probably be on my list.
Oh, a change is coming, feel these doors now closing
Is there no world for tomorrow, if we wait for today?
dragonlily, i think you should tell us what it is...no one's guessing!!!
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
Not really much of a mystery reader. No idea why. I enjoyed one Hillerman novel, but haven't been driven to read another. And I tried one Wetering, but didn't finish it. I guess I like my mysteries on tv. Colombo and Ellery Queen rule!
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest -Paul Simon
i have often pondered these books on the mystery shelf just because i like the name and the nice quiet covers!! i must now read one...somewhere between Gabaldon and Erikson!!
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
oh, i've seen that one at borders! must take a trip down there and pick it up!
Last edited by lucimay on Fri Oct 14, 2005 5:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
you're more advanced than a cockroach,
have you ever tried explaining yourself
to one of them?
~ alan bates, the mothman prophecies
i've had this with actors before, on the set,
where they get upset about the [size of my]
trailer, and i'm always like...take my trailer,
cause... i'm from Kentucky
and that's not what we brag about.
~ george clooney, inside the actor's studio
a straight edge for legends at
the fold - searching for our
lost cities of gold. burnt tar,
gravel pits. sixteen gears switch.
Haphazard Lucy strolls by.
~ dennis r wood ~
The trouble with most warlocks is that they talk too much. That's how I happened to notice the kid in Washington Square: he wasn't saying anything. He just sat there, quietly making tropical butterflies, while the teenyboppers rippled past, unnoticing.
"The universe is made of stories, not atoms." -- Roger Penrose
Here it is again, since everyone else probably forgot, too:
The trouble with most warlocks is that they talk too much. That's how I happened to notice the kid in Washington Square: he wasn't saying anything. He just sat there, quietly making tropical butterflies, while the teenyboppers rippled past, unnoticing.
It's from Chester Anderson's THE BUTTERFLY KID, a psychedelic mystery ripped directly from the daydreams of Greenwich Village stoners of the '60s. Hilarious battle of Villagers versus Insidious Aliens.
It's someone else's turn to do one.
"The universe is made of stories, not atoms." -- Roger Penrose
