A few tales out of hundreds that take only a few paragraphs to tell. None important in any way. They stay in my head, anyway.

With no one to interfere, Flora and local flora, could bloom in their own special ways

Chaos isn’t married to Passion. They are good friends.

The sleet hadn’t decided what it would become. Neither had I.

The facts are available, just not in the foolish buzz of mainstream culture

I’ve become hardened to expensive repairs, no chance of repair at all, and short-lived products that are cheaper to throw away than to fix. So have we all. That doesn’t mean we should happy about it

I’m not much enthused about travel. There’s too much travail in even the best of travel.

A large creature with a long black tail glided silently away.

Is there is something embedded deep in the human psyche that makes us think we should be able to spread our wings and fly?

. What gentle person doesn’t dream of running away and becoming a Herman?

.Death focuses the mind on life. We are more likely to see the opportunities that come our way when we’re conscious of the limited time we have to take them.

No one thought of her as a victim of anything. She didn’t think of herself
as a victim.

Ages come and go. People stay the same.

What is left when we are gone? We all leave footprints in the dust.

Medieval French soldiers had a name for a death blow delivered to mortally wounded comrades.
They called it the coup de gras,
the touch of grace. Many celebrate the concept today.

Summe fades. Green leaves are turning yellow. Some have fallen. A month from now the remaining leaves will be ablaze in color. A month after that they’ll be spread lifeless & brown, like a mortuary quilt on the lawn