I might note (shameless promotion) that sentiment is a plot device in my novel, which EVERYONE can get on Kindle for FREE: https://www.amazon.com/Cowboy-Dancing...
I like a lot of what has been said here! I'll weigh in, too. It depends on the purpose of the sentence. Is it informative? Is it lyrical, prose, or poetry? Where is it being delivered? Let's remember the purpose of art, which is to express abstract concepts in concrete form. If it does that well, then I would consider it art. If it does it in a way that is appropriate for its medium, then it is a masterpiece.
I have always loved this one: Henry David Thoreau :." I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
Yet out from that fetid black hole there came a cackle interspersed with coughs followed by a too familiar voice that said , "I'll be back." **** THE END?******
I was in the audience of a late night TV show while the Host was interviewing hiltery clintonia; when all of a sudden we began to notice hiltery with a strained look and a violent seat teetering motion, back and fourth, back and fourth, the floor vibrating in sync with her motion when out of the silence came the loudest anal burp I ever heard, flubbering on for what seemed like hours and a visible stench, rising to the ceiling like a cloud, our eyes watering, our noses inflamed with impending vomit, the host's metal coffee mug fell to the tile floor do to the vibration and a large spark shot out from it causing an explosion that would make an atomic bomb seem like a fire cracker...I fortunately was thrown to the back of the audience and was therefore protected from the aftermath; I stood up suddenly, not sure if I should run or not; at that moment, I saw only a tiny stream of smoke from where hiltery once sat, streaming toward the black hole at the center of our galaxy and the host was covered in a soot of black. I thanked my lucky stars and walked, shaken to the marrow, back to my car.
The crew looked on in vain disdain And most sincerely wept For every one of Their Crabbing pots Were deep in the briny depths As the skipper gave back With an evil gargle Plenty of time was gained For chum to settle The Crabs to feast And return to the ship In those capture traps Again all of the Chummy Crabs Stood o high on the Menu Now Crab with White Sauce Is known to be Very very pleasing The very thought Hung in the air Ship's Cat licked his lips Sniffed the Air And considered his day Of feasting and dining The Skiipper continued tossing cookies Joined in support by the rest of his crew As the Gulls began to gather. And none of hem rookies The pots came up the sea gulls flew The work was hard and tiring Yet that very night There was not one light In the little ships sole galley But only the sound of a burp and a purr From the Old Tom known as Sally! .. rush job
Always got that way below underway... that's why I was Captain!, and also, the years first pumpout!!!... at that time, it was wished, I was only a guest. chum's away!
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It depends on the purpose of the sentence. Is it informative? Is it lyrical, prose, or poetry? Where is it being delivered?
Let's remember the purpose of art, which is to express abstract concepts in concrete form. If it does that well, then I would consider it art. If it does it in a way that is appropriate for its medium, then it is a masterpiece.
**** THE END?******
No! No! Please don't flick that BIC!
https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=...
The devil made me do it.
Good night ole friend, tomorrow we'll try for something deeper...but we won't be crabbing.
The crew looked on
in vain disdain
And most sincerely wept
For every one of
Their Crabbing pots
Were deep in the briny depths
As the skipper gave back
With an evil gargle
Plenty of time was gained
For chum to settle
The Crabs to feast
And return to the ship
In those capture traps
Again all of the Chummy Crabs
Stood o high on the Menu
Now Crab with White Sauce
Is known to be
Very very pleasing
The very thought
Hung in the air
Ship's Cat licked his lips
Sniffed the Air
And considered his day
Of feasting and dining
The Skiipper continued tossing cookies
Joined in support by the rest of his crew
As the Gulls began to gather.
And none of hem rookies
The pots came up the sea gulls flew
The work was hard and tiring
Yet that very night
There was not one light
In the little ships sole galley
But only the sound of a burp and a purr
From the Old Tom known as Sally!
..
rush job
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