Overheard in a nearby library, a voice inquiring, “Just which thoughts are reusable?”
Over in that little humid sector of the near frontier, one fellow expressed the joy of his efforts by saying that he was to the point where reality almost made sense.
Those who hear
far away voices
are not themselves
necessarily far away.
Responding to the endless, historical condemnation of human violence, one fellow stated that if the gods hadn’t wanted men to be aggressive, we wouldn’t have been born with weapons.
The battle cry of one certain slick galaxy is, “Why shucks, we ain’t got no battle cry, y’all.”