A new business was opening, and a long-time friend of the owner decided to send flowers for the occasion. He arrived at the "grand opening", accepted a glass of champagne and a warm handshake from his host, then browsed about the room examining the many floral arrangements and potted plants.

Finally, he happened upon his own offering, only to find an attached card bearing this sentiment: "Rest in Peace"

Embarrassed and irate at the florist's error, he phoned to lodge a complaint. After venting his anger in a lengthy tirade, he waited impatiently for the florist's explanation.

"Sir, I'm really sorry for the mistake, but rather than getting angry....imagine this: Somewhere a funeral is taking place today, and they have a lovely floral spray with an attached note saying: Congratulations on your new location!



Someone said my words are a street musician
playing a guitar next to a hat full of quarters,
for an audience of passers by

Someone said my words are a mural
painted on the wall of an old office building,
read by many, remembered by a few.

Someone said my words are a school yard ballet.
Choreographed by the blind,
performed by children too clumsy to know better.

She says my words are magic:
silk scarves pulled from
tattered sleeves

She should know, since she has
all the originals.



Sub`jec*tiv"i*ty (?), n.

The quality or state of being subjective; character of the subject.

 

© Webster 1913.

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