Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
I suppose it__ not a social norm, and not a manly thing to do _ to feel, discuss feelings. So that__ what I__ giving the finger to. Social norms and stuff_what good are social norms, really? I think all they do is project a limited and harmful image of people. It thus impedes a broader social acceptance of what someone, or a group of people, might actually be like.
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I suppose it__ not a social norm, and not a manly thing to do _ to feel, discuss feelings. So that__ what I__ giving the finger to. Social norms and stuff_what good are social norms, really? I think all they do is project a limited and harmful image of people. It thus impedes a broader social acceptance of what someone, or a group of people, might actually be like.
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They say revenge is a dish best served cold. This isn__ correct. Revenge is a dish best served lukewarm or at room temperature (depending on the room) with a side of sauerkraut lightly sprinkled with pepper, a generous helping of golden brown roasted potatoes, and a large loaf of marble rye, washed down with any kind of unfiltered wheat beer.But whatever you do__nd remember this, as it can be a matter of life or death__on__ put any sort of fruit in the beer. Fruit doesn__ belong in beer.
Just behind his jaw bones a tiny movement was perceptible, like the movement of gills in a fish.
The computer may be incompetent in itself--that is, unable to do the work for which it was designed. This kind of incompetence can never be eliminated, because the Peter Principle applies in the plants where computers are designed and manufactured.
Franklin Fletcher dreamed of luxury in the form of tiger-skins and beautiful women. He was prepared, at a pinch, to forgo the tiger-skins. Unfortunately the beautiful women seemed equally rare and inaccessible. At his office and at his boarding-house the girls were mere mice, or cattish, or kittenish, or had insufficiently read the advertisements.
At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.