“And I say to Sam now: ‘Sam—here’s the book.’ It’s so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like ‘Poo-tee-weet?”
(Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, 19)
Sunday, October 23, 2005
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