Non Sequitur by Wiley Miller for November 30, 2019

And here I thought last words would be, :Here, hold my beer…"

self portrait ?

“Keep firing! They couldn’t hit an elephant at this dist—” — last words of Civil War General John Sedgwick

“I met a traveller from an antique land / 
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
 / Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand, / 
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
 / And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
 / Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
 / Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
 / The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
 / And on the pedestal these words appear:
 / ‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
 / Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’ / 
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
 / Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
 / The lone and level sands stretch far away.” —Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822), husband of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

“It was the best of dark and stormy nights, it was the worst of dark and stormy nights…”

Where you’ve gone to now, there’s no need to write a memoir.

Shouldn’t it be last words said and written in stone cemetary.

As with many a paupered author, he went into the hole with this even before starting chapter eleven.

I thought the last words for a writer were: “Sure to be a bestseller.” Right up there with, “I never get writers block,” and “I don’t need an editor…”

Writers block came at the very moment he had this thought….

Seconds before his fatal crash, the TV audience heard Greg Moore say something like “Man, this is fun!”

“Holy Sh*t, where did all those Fu####g Indians come from?” – George Armstrong Custer, June 25,1876

“Look at all that powder snow!! What could possibly go wrong?!”

At least the epilogue is finished.

Happy birthday to Samuel Langhorne Clemens.

Mr. Miller really does have a sense for irony

It’s a thousand pages, give or take a fewI’ll be writing more in a week or twoI could make it longer if you like the style…

Writers are observers. It’s what we do. Somewhere in our brain, we are observing the world and taking notes. When I die, the writer in me will be observing and taking notes because that’s what writers do.

I wonder if this is the famous Last Words cemetary I’ve heard so much about?

A consequence of the computer: too many novels that should never have been written.

My favorite epitaph of all time: “I told you I was sick!”

I’m hoping my memoir will be a multivolume graphic novel.

“This is no way to live!” , attributed to Groucho Marx

Mausoleum, n: the final and funniest folly of the rich.

Ambrose Beirce

Not really relevant, however, I never miss an opportunity to quote the great man. Did everyone enjoy “Eat too much” day?

My last words will likely be, “Well that didn’t work”

True aspiring writers epitaph: “This is going to make a great memoir…when I get around to it.”

Words? Last words? More like sounds if any unless I say something a bit before I die. If I am not in a coma…

I thought that would be about people with selfie sticks.

Wouldn’t that be the tomb of the Unfinished Manuscript Author?

Then wearing his flying suit he jumped off the cliff.

“This will make me famous on YouTube!”

Least famous last words: Einstein’s. His last words were in German. The only person in the room to hear them was his nurse, who didn’t speak German.

Love it.