He Was Death, And He'd Ridden In

Writers. For Some Reason, A Lot Of You Reject What You Hear And See In Your Heads. If You Go Too Long Ignoring It, It Builds Up And Then You Do All Sorts Of Weird Things. Mumble To Yourself. Nightmares. Day-dreams. Total Anarchy And Chaos. Before You Know It, The Writer Is Either Sitting In Corner Feverishly Humming To His- Or Herself Or On Prozac. You’re Not On Prozac, Are You? (esther)

Yeah, You Go After Her, And I Suggest You Invest In A Steel Plated Jockstrap. Last Guy Who Said Something Sexual To Her And Pissed Her Off Is Still Limping Around The Office. (carlos)

What Made You So Unforgiving? (simone) Be Grateful That You Have The Luxury Of Asking Me That Question. Pray To Whatever God You Worship That You’ll Always Be Ignorant. (xypher)

So Just Look Mean And Don’t Make Eye Contact With Anyone. (syn) Gee, Hon, You Take Me To The Most Wonderful Places. (shahara)

No Stops Are Ever Inserted In Acts Of Parliament, Or In Deeds; But The Courts Of Law, In Construing Them, Must Read Them With Such Stops As Will Give Effect To The Whole.