[5102] in Central_America
New quotes for Mon Sep 27
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Central America)
Mon Sep 27 06:33:50 1993
Date: Mon, 27 Sep 93 06:33:09 -0400
From: Central America <root@charon.MIT.EDU>
To: ca-mtg@charon.MIT.EDU
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belville (Sharon Belville):
The pun o' the day is:
In a restaurant: Ice cold beer. Great relief pitcher.
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ccwang (Ching-Cheng Wang):
{from system: This user's .plan file is not world-readable}
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hch (Hernando Cortina):
I've read SEVEN MILLION books!!
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rjbarbal (Richard J. Barbalace):
For an incomplete glimpse of my schedule, take a look at
~/PostScript/scheduler.ps or my .tc file (using xcal from
the calendar locker).
I'm currently living at:
26 Fairmont Avenue
Cambridge, MA 02139
(617) 497-2189
No one ever calls me....
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You know I'd sooner forget but I remember those nights
When life was just a bet on a race between the lights.
You had your head on my shoulder, you had your hand in my hair,
Now you act a little colder like you don't seem to care...
But believe in me baby and I'll take you away
From out of this darkness and into the day,
From these rivers of headlights, these rivers of rain,
From the anger that lives on the streets with these names
'Cause I've run every red light on memory lane.
I've seen desperation explode into flames
and I don't wanna see it again...
- "Telegraph Road", Dire Straits
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When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Then can I drown an eye (unus'd to flow)
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.
- Sonnet XXX, Shakespeare
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therese (Therese):
Why are these women here dancing on their own?
Why is there this sadness in their eyes?
Why are the soldiers here
Their faces fixed like stone?
I can't see what it is that they despise
They're dancing with the missing
They're dancing with the dead
They dance with the invisible ones
Their anguish is unsaid
They're dancing with their fathers
They're dancing with their sons
They're dancing with their husbands
They dance alone. They dance alone.
-Sting
--- End of Central America ---
