I like words. I like composing words into sentences. Sometimes I can be quite clever at it.
I recently took the liberty of completing a few common expressions in this space. I did so strictly for entertainment: mine, and perhaps yours.
In contrast to my previous foray into the gymnastics of linguistics, this list includes only my expressions and a few supporting photographs. To my knowledge, I have not written these words, in this order, previously. So this won’t be an exercise in redundancy for the reader.
Again, as before, I’m writing primarily for pleasure. In addition, writing often forces me to think deeply about my life and the meanings I give it.
Cemeteries are quiet. Cemeteries are filled with my favorite kind of people. Is it any wonder I like cemeteries?
I experience a lot of dujà vé: the feeling I’ve never been here before.
Who do you want to be with during your corporeal existence on Earth? Who do you want next to you when you die?
I take a 20-minute walk each day, often past a medical clinic. After all, a daily walk to the doctor’s office keeps the doctor away.
I know why I’m here. I’m here to find meanings for my life, and then to apply those meanings. Do you know why you’re here?
A lot of people believe the universe revolves around each of them. They couldn’t be more mistaken, of course, as pointed out within the first few pages of Douglas Adams’s classic book, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
Why are we here? Mistakes have been made.
In a perfect world, there’d be no need to discuss a perfect world. This helps explain why social criticism matters.
We all know people like him. He’s got nothing to say, and he uses a lot of words to say it.
If you know it’s your last goodbye, then deliver the message yourself. Nobody else can do that job justice.
According to an interpretation by some people, we have an ice age every year. Most of us recognize this phenomenon as winter.
He’s his favorite audience. And, simultaneously, his favorite guest.
He has a face only a mother could love. Too bad his mother is blind (that’s “sight-impaired” for the PC police).
As with every doctor, I have a moral obligation to tell the truth. The other alternative is malpractice.
Why am I here? Where else would I be?
Self-reinforcing feedback loops are like a stray dog in the street. We were all looking the other way and then, “Bam“ we ran over the dog. As with the feedback loops, we didn’t even know about the dog until it was behind us, dead in the road.
So many cases of cranio-rectal inversion. So little time.