All the people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the eleventh day of the eleventh month. It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering one another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the Voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.
Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns.
I hope that my ideas attract a lively dialogue, even if my sentences are simple. Simple sentences have always served me well. And I don’t use semicolons. It’s hard to read anyway, especially for high school kids. Also, I avoid irony, too. I don’t like people saying one thing and meaning the other.
Billy covered his head with his blanket. He always covered his head when his mother came to see him in the mental ward – always got much sicker until she went away. It wasn’t that she was ugly, or had bad breath or a bad personality. She was a perfectly nice, standard-issue, brown-haired, white woman with a high school education. She upset Billy simply by being his mother. She made him feel embarrassed and ungrateful and weak because she had gone through so much trouble to give him life, and to keep that life going, and Billy didn’t really like life at all.
I went to high school in Indianapolis I learned how to walk around looking tough because everybody had to do that. I go out there occasionally and they’re still doing it, walking around looking very tough because something might happen.
True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country.
Roses are red, And ready for plucking, You’re sixteen, And ready for high school.
This had been going on at Short ridge since 1906. My parents had also worked on the Short ridge Daily Echo. The way it came into being was that when they built Short ridge High School, they had a vocational department and they had a print shop.
Fathers are always so proud the first time they see their sons in uniform,” she said. “I know Big John Karpinski was,” I said. He is my neighbour to the north, of course. Big John’s son Little John did badly in high school, and the police caught him selling dope. So he joined the Army while the Vietnam War was going on. And the first time he came home in uniform, I never saw Big John so happy, because it looked to him as though Little John was all straightened out and would amount to something. But then Little John came home in a body bag.
There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.
Live by the harmless untruths that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.
“Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns.
Science is magic that works.
What makes you think a writer isn’t a drug salesman?
Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before.
What is my definition of jazz? “Safe sex of the highest order.
I wish we had all been born birds instead.