A man exiting the city park via the north gate, stopped long enough to tell me this: “I just about have a hammer lock on time, but space – ah, dear space – can still kick me around pretty good when the referee’s not looking.”



More recently discovered

“Most holy books
were written out of spite.”



After telling me that he didn’t usually talk to strangers, this one guy out by a yard sale went on to say that he’s lived by himself so long that he’d almost forgotten who he was.  (This was another of those instances when it was hard to tell if the human involved was registering a complaint, or what.)



In an attempt to pass along the wisdom he’d acquired, and to keep the lore of the sea alive, the old salt told one of the kids along the docks, “A man with a wooden leg is a splendid companion in a lifeboat.”  He squinted and spat on his foot as he continued, “But better still is a man with one eye who has a shortwave radio.”  (Squint, spit.)



The first fury declared, “Only the mighty still sleep,” and his younger spirit asked, “How about the tired and the discouraged?”  And he replied, “You call that sleep?!”


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