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<!--Generated by Squarespace Site Server v5.8.5 (http://www.squarespace.com/) on Thu, 10 Dec 2009 23:24:13 GMT--><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"><title>On Life</title><subtitle>On Life</subtitle><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/</id><link rel="alternate" type="application/xhtml+xml" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/"/><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/atom.xml"/><updated>2008-11-20T00:46:29Z</updated><generator uri="http://www.squarespace.com/" version="Squarespace Site Server v5.8.5 (http://www.squarespace.com/)">Squarespace</generator><entry><title>Prudent estimation</title><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/7/17/prudent-estimation.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/7/17/prudent-estimation.html"/><author><name>Wryter</name></author><published>2006-07-17T18:57:37Z</published><updated>2006-07-17T18:57:37Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<h4><em><strong>&quot;I backed away from the fight because I didn't know how many of them it would take to kick my ass... but I knew how many they were gonna use.&quot;</strong></em></h4><p><strong>-Ron &quot;Tater Salad&quot; White</strong><br />From &quot;I Had the Right to Remain Silent, but Not the Ability.&quot;<br /></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>The difference between us</title><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/7/17/the-difference-between-us.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/7/17/the-difference-between-us.html"/><author><name>Wryter</name></author><published>2006-07-17T18:52:30Z</published><updated>2006-07-17T18:52:30Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<h4><em><strong>"Easy, guys.. I put my pants on just like the rest of you - one leg at a time.&nbsp; <br />Except, once my pants are on, I make gold records."</strong></em></h4>
<p><strong>Bruce "I need more COWBELL" Dickinson</strong> (Christopher Walken)<br />Legendary record producer, on Saturday Night Live</p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Wisdom from the man downstairs</title><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/4/21/wisdom-from-the-man-downstairs.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/4/21/wisdom-from-the-man-downstairs.html"/><author><name>Wryter</name></author><published>2006-04-21T04:55:03Z</published><updated>2006-04-21T04:55:03Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<h4><strong><em>&quot;I was born poor and naked and that's the way God's gonna take me down.&quot;</em></strong></h4><p><strong>Charlie from Brooklyn</strong>, as told to <a href="http://www.thegirlwho.squarespace.com/" target="new">The Girl Who</a></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Chuckles the Clown: Philosopher</title><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/chuckles-the-clown-philosopher.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/chuckles-the-clown-philosopher.html"/><author><name>Wryter</name></author><published>2006-01-23T04:01:28Z</published><updated>2006-01-23T04:01:28Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<h4><strong><em>&quot;A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants.&quot;</em></strong></h4><h5><strong>Chuckles the Clown</strong></h5>]]></content></entry><entry><title>So laugh, already</title><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/so-laugh-already.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/so-laugh-already.html"/><author><name>Wryter</name></author><published>2006-01-23T03:04:36Z</published><updated>2006-01-23T03:04:36Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<h4><span style="font-family: tahoma"><em><strong>&ldquo;The only graceful way to accept an insult is to ignore it; if you can&rsquo;t ignore it, top it; if you can&rsquo;t top it, laugh at it; if you can&rsquo;t laugh at it, it&rsquo;s probably true.&quot;</strong></em> <h5></h5></span></h4><h5><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-family: tahoma; mso-bidi-font-style: italic"><strong>Russell Lynes</strong>, American Editor and Writer <font style="color: #000000" color="#000000"><p>&nbsp;</p></font></span></h5>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Life is linear</title><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/life-is-linear.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/life-is-linear.html"/><author><name>Wryter</name></author><published>2006-01-23T02:57:57Z</published><updated>2006-01-23T02:57:57Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<h4><strong><em>&ldquo;I've always had a feeling that life is more linear than cyclical.&nbsp; In other words, outside of birthdays and significant holidays, I don't give as much credence as I once did to a time calculating system based on 365 days every three years, 366 every four years, and all that mumbo jumbo.&nbsp; Y2K was a yawner.&nbsp; Once the first year after our</em> Annus Horribilis <em>was over, it really changed for me.&nbsp; So look ahead, my sister.&nbsp; Keep memories, cherish them, and take them along, but NEVER take the chance on missing the richness of life that always lies ahead... just around the corner.&quot;</em></strong>&nbsp; </h4><h5><strong>Me.</strong></h5><h5>[To my sister around the second annniversary of our Mother's death.]</h5>]]></content></entry><entry><title>The fruits of luck</title><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/the-fruits-of-luck.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/the-fruits-of-luck.html"/><author><name>Wryter</name></author><published>2006-01-23T02:48:56Z</published><updated>2006-01-23T02:48:56Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<h4 class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><em><strong>&ldquo;The fruits of luck can sometimes produce sweeter results than skill.&rdquo;</strong></em></h4><h5 class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic"><strong>Mike Barnicle</strong> (Columnist, on <em>Imus in the Morning.</em>) </span></h5>]]></content></entry><entry><title>When you are younger...</title><id>http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/when-you-are-younger.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://wrytoast.squarespace.com/on-life/2006/1/22/when-you-are-younger.html"/><author><name>Wryter</name></author><published>2006-01-23T02:32:38Z</published><updated>2006-01-23T02:32:38Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<h4><em><strong>&ldquo;When you are younger you get blamed for crimes you never committed and when you're older you begin to get credit for virtues you never possessed. It evens itself out.&rdquo;</strong></em></h4><h5><strong>I.F. Stone</strong> (1907-89), U.S. author.</h5>]]></content></entry></feed>