• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.
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• Censorship is ugly, but still not the ugliest bird in the sky. Happily, this has never been necessary.
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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."
Laughter is like cancer, spreading and consuming until there is nothing left but the memory of it.
The room was beauty and light, full of energy and some sort of unheard happy laughter, photos and hats lined the walls and the easel and desk were covered with paintings that led you to another world; it was back to being just a room.
I sometimes wonder when drawings of stick men first started making people laugh.
The very first time something or someone laughed on this planet, who do you think was more surprised: the laugher, or the somethings or someones nearby?
My guess is that the very first laugher on this planet received an immediate blow to the head from someone wielding a large stone, killing him or her instantly (an unfortunate thing, really), since this prevented them from joining in on the celebration of thinking they’d all just invented irony, which they hadn’t, of course, since the moment the entire group broke into this new thing called laughter, a mastodon or woolly mammoth or some such beast heard the new noise and came crashing into the clearing, stomping everyone to death, except of course, the first dead laugher, who couldn’t run away, which really is sort of ironic, but certainly not very funny.
Moving over sentences from Old Scrine, I made myself laugh when I saw one I'd forgotten all about.
Five years after Roger’s arranged marriage to the deaf-mute girl from Bakersfield, his…
under the blanket :: boot
Becky squealed and protested, throwing giant tunas, wobbling jellies, miniscule minuets, and a laughing lollypop at the woman’s head, burbling “not ready… not leaving… not yet…”.
Now, because of those beautiful crinkly eyes, I have to find ways every damn day to make myself smile right up around the eyes for the rest of my damn life.
hear :: boot
Their laughter and their lives.
multi-coloured laughter :: boot
The sight of the three brightly coloured umbrellas drying out on the floor brought about spontaneous laughter and cheers of joy and delight.
one of the joyous ones :: boot
Grasp happiness wherever you can and revel in it at every turn.
chuckles :: Elisson
As she laughed, she punctuated her chuckles with a perfectly-timed series of staccato farts.
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