• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.
• Play nice. Be kind. Post only single sentences.
• Scrine gives everyone plenty of rope to play with, but reminds everyone that even the longest rope is capable of hanging a person.
• Censorship is ugly, but still not the ugliest bird in the sky. Happily, this has never been necessary.
• The appropriateness of all sentences will remain the sole discretion of Scrine's tender.
• Anyone. Reading along costs nothing but time.
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• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.
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• The above sentence may be the only sentence on this site that is 100% true.
Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.
This is a private space. Only you will see your notes.
Expiration date is not required, only if you want the note to magically disappear.
A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
I know it’s nothing to be proud of, but it’s beginning to look like my seven month collection of unopened mail and bills will turn out to be a complete set, which makes the accountant in me happy in that strange, anal, cross-your-i’s-and-dot-your-t’s sort of accounting way.
Any time I feel the least bit down about working too hard I just consider the image of the accountant across the hall brushing his teeth in the office sink this morning after last night’s all-nighter, facing the prospect of four more between now and midnight Monday, April 17.
Try as he might, Henry could convince none of his coworkers to refer to him as The Juggernaut, with the exception of Stu in accounting, which everyone knew didn’t really count.
When the bank statements couldn’t be found, I felt my eyes turn into marbles and heard them as they fell and bounced across my desk, but of course, there was no way I could see this happen, although I sure would have liked to.
The chief was so dismayed by the company’s antiquated accounting system that he often worried that the copy machine was only a temporary office fixture, and that one day he would show up for work and find a scrivener standing in the corner, quill pen in hand, sharing stories of his vacation time in Leeds.
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