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Some
True Facts & Stories
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Nothing has done more
for home
cooking than
the taste of a vending-machine sandwich. |
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Robert
MacNell:
"From my mother came the
idea that going down to the sea repaired the
spirit. That is where she walked when she was sad or worried or lonely
for
my father. If she had been crying, she came back composed; if she had
left
angry with us, she returned in good humour. So we naturally believed
that
there was a cleansing effect to be had; that letting the fresh wind
blow
through your mind and spirits as well as your hair and clothing purged
black thoughts; that contemplating the ceaseless motion of the waves
calmed
a raging spirit." - Wordstruck Viking |
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Shelby
Steele on race relations:
"We have all grown up on the same sitcorns, eaten the same fast food
and laughed at the same jokes. We have lived under the same political
system,
read the same books and worked in the same marketplace. We have the
same
dreams and aspirations, as well as fears and doubts for ourselves and
for
our children. How, then, can our differences be so overwhelming?"
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RICHARD
DIMBLEBY
was a gifted BBC broadcaster, writer and reporter who did more homework
than any of his contemporaries before an interview. Once, he was on the
air at the Royal Needlework School in London, where the Queen Mother
was
to make an appearance. Dimbleby described the items on display, talked
about the school's history, and then it came, time for the royal
appearance.
But the Queen Mother
didn't appear, so Dimbleby went around again,
talking about needlework in China, Japan, Persia and Europe, describing
different stitches as though he had spent his entire life with a needle
in his hand.
The Queen Mother appeared, 25 minutes late. She explained
that she'd been watching Dimbleby on television and had become so
engrossed
in what he was saying that she had forgotten the time.
- John Chancellor &
Walter Mears, The New News Business
(HarperCollins) |
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Send
a link or joke to a friend
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FOLLOWER
A nervous commuter on his dark, lonely way
home from the railroad
station
heard footsteps behind him. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he was
being followed. He increased his speed. The footsteps quickened
accordingly.
The commuter darted down a lane. The footsteps still pursued him. In
desperation
he vaulted over a fence and, rushing into a churchyard, threw himself
panting
on one of the graves.
"If he follows me here," he thought fearfully, "there can be no
doubt
as to his intentions."
The man behind was following. He could hear him scrambling over the
fence. Visions of highwaymen, maniacs, garroters and the like flashed
through
his brain. Quivering with fear, the nervous one arose and faced his
pursuer.
"What do you want?" he demanded. "Wh-why are you following me?"
"Say," asked the stranger, mopping his brow, "do you always go home
like this? I'm going up to Mr. Brown's and the man at the station told
me to follow you, as you lived next door. Excuse my asking you, but is
there much more to do before we get there?" |
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