• 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.
• Membership is required to post your own sentences. Joining is quick and painless.
• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.
• Your information will never be sold, given away, shared, or even traded for an unimaginably delicious slice of pie.
• 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."
Funny that in my dictionary the only thing separating promiscuous from Promised Land is a simple little promise.
When Keith arrived at the dictionary fight, he was horrified to discover that he’d picked up a comic book by mistake, and tried to explain things to Boot as she closed in; Boot, being the kind and understanding person that she was, told Keith that she understood the rather unfortunate mistake, then gently squeezed his head flat between the pages of her own dictionary, somewhere in the W’s, Keith thought as he blacked out.
Using “no” for “know,” “one” for “won” and “their” for “there” are all symptoms of functional illiteracy, which I blame on my ADD, but my doctor suggests really means I should just proofread and use a fucking dictionary once in awhile.
Possibly this is one of the few places I can come and share weird words I have discovered, purely from the joy of looking through old dictionaries.
Afraid he was fast running out of things to be when he grew up, Ferguson bought an English-to-Dutch dictionary and considered taking up clog dancing.
When the meeting was called to order, the ghost of Samuel Johnson proposed that they get right to work on the afterlife’s first ghost dictionary, but he was vetoed immediately by an overwhelming boo, and not the scary, haunting kind like you might expect from a room full of ghosts, but more like a “Will you shut up already about that dictionary business!” kind of boo.
One day I wish to retire to a dictionary.
I'm thinking collecting dictionaries would be fun.
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