The Island was green. The sea was blue and deep. The waves were white speeding to shore. I was pink and pale and sleepy. Thoughts of dark wood and clocks, heavy smoke in the evening. The lights above in the cool, still air.

The formation of life is bound to the strategy of man.

Fish never develop legs because they have no need for sunlight.

Cantankerous old men are the bane of many a public school system.

Why, said the idiot that wandered along the coast of a forgotten island.

I’m not sure. No. Definitely not. I really don’t want too. Oh, go on then.

The poor are the disease of the our lives. If I was a surgeon I’d cut them out with my scalpel. Over time the cut would heal, but I’d make sure that the poor wouldn’t invade again. I would install a barrier. That barrier would be an IQ test and a shower.

Her eyes clapped at once, so softly. It was like an overture, but too soon and all too brief. She smiled - falsely - and said: “that was really good”.

I once saw a deer eating a man on a hillside. It had set up a whole table complete with a cloth, candlestick and chair. I strolled past, not wanting to attract attention by running. It nodded to me and raised a glass. I went home after that and watched television.

Life was so vacuous that Brian tried stuffing his body with feathers.

Is it a coincidence that tired and tried are made up of the same letters? No! Of course not!