Big enough to be tropical

Nothing to be done.

You know what would tickle me? And selfish as I am I'll express it here amongst friends and romans: I'd like a site full of cool-ass quotes. Anything you've read recently with a killer line. I think a blog full of killer lines would be awesome. Perhaps the lines could be used, attributed, and messed with: re-constituted.

I'll have a go.

It was a cool winter day. A freckled breeze in the leaves of the trees, but nothing more. In the carport two members of the body corporate were arguing about waste recycling. One of them said it was a crying shame that glass bottles were thrown like that. How much energy goes into a bottle? One said.

There was a joke to be had there, and it involved Brendan Behan and Dylan Thomas pissing their creative juices up a brick wall. I presume they didn't get above waist height, though both would have tried.

The two body corporate members disdained the joke. It was irrelevant. The joker was not on the committee and they resumed their argument. But what can I do about the glass situation? The previously silent member said.

Something! The other said.

What?

The argument was going nowhere.

Something. If something had been done along time ago we wouldn't be having this argument.

Even if you are right, that's a pathetic argument.

It was getting personal.

Look, a final indisputable argument. What can be done, will be done.

It was William Faulkner. The past is not dead and gone, he said, it isn't even past.

You piss me off. Go fcuk yourself and your pastimes too.

There was nothing to be done. The body corporate wasn't meeting for a week. Their argument had lasted years. It was big enough to be tropical.