Z Letter Quotes

My alphabet starts with this letter called yuzz. It s the letter I use to spell yuzz a ma tuzz. You ll be sort of surprised what there is to be found once you go beyond Z and start poking around

The greatest of love letters are always coded for the one and not the many.

I… What are you saying, Zsadist?" she stammered, even though she'd heard every word. He glanced back down at the pencil in his hand and then turned to the table. Flipping the spiral notebook to a new page, he bent way over and labored on top of the paper for quite a while. Then he ripped the sheet free. His hand was shaking as he held it out. "It's messy." Bella took the paper. In a child's uneven block letters there were three words: I LOVE YOU Her lips flattened tight as her eyes stung. The handwriting got wavy and then disappeared.   "Maybe you can't read it," he said in a small voice. "I can do it over."   She shook her head. "I can read it just fine. It's… beautiful." "I don't expect anything back. I mean… I know that you don't… feel that for me anymore. But I wanted you to know. It's important that you knew.

Sometimes I get depressed about my age. In March I’ll be 26. If man weren’t measured in numbers, but rather letters, I’d be turning Z. And then I’d be dead.

If we desire to avoid insult, we must be able to repel it; if we desire to secure peace, one of the most powerful instruments of our rising prosperity, it must be known, that we are at all times ready for War.

I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. Although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.

i miss u i love you there's no second ive lived you can't call your own

Maybe you saw her first? Caught a glimpse between the lines, between the letters, like a ghost in the mirror, a ghost in the wings?

Why' is the only question that bothers people enough to have an entire letter of the alphabet named after it. The alphabet does not go 'A B C D What? When? How?' but it does go 'V W X Why? Z.

Stories heard but not recalled. Letters too. Words filling my head. Fragmenting like artillery shells. Shrapnel, like syllables, flying everywhere. Terrible syllables. Sharp cracked. Traveling at murderous speed. Tearing through it all in a very, very bad inreparable way.

By now you've probably noticed that except when safely contained by quotes, Zampanò always steers clear of such questionable four-letter language. This instance in particular proves that beneath all that cool psuedo-academic hogwash lurked a very passionate man who knew how important it was to say "fuck" now and then, and say it loud too, relish its syllabic sweetness, its immigrant pride, a great American epic word really, starting at the lower lip, often the very front of the lower lip, before racing all the way to the back of the throat, where it finishes with a great blast, the concussive force of the K catching up then with the hush of the F already on its way, thus loading it with plenty of offense and edge and certainly ambiguity. FUCK. A great by-the-bootstrap prayer or curse if you prefer, depending on how you look at it, or use it, suited perfectly for hurling at the skies or at the world, or sometimes, if said just right, for uttering with enough love and fire, the woman beside you melts inside herself, immersed in all that word-heat.

The greatest love letters are always encoded for the one and not the many.

Holy fucking understatement of the year, Batman

On Wednesday, July 19, the Council, having gleaned and discerned, released its official verdict: the fall of the tile bearing the letter "Z" constitutes the terrestrial manifestation of an empyrean Nollopian desire, that desire most surely being that the letter "Z" should be utterly excised--fully extirpated--absolutively heave-ho'ed from our communal vocabulary!

Then idiots talk....of Energy. If there is a word in the dictionary under any letter from A to Z that I abominate, it is energy. It is such a conventional superstition, such parrot gabble! What the deuce!....But show me a good opportunity, show me something really worth being energetic about, and I'll show you energy.

Also remember, love inhabits more than just the heart and mind.

We think conscious thought is somehow better, when in fact, intuition is soaring flight compared to the plodding of logic. Nature’s greatest accomplishment, the human brain, is never more efficient or invested than when its host is at risk. Then, intuition is catapulted to another level entirely, a height at which it can accurately be called graceful, even miraculous. Intuition is the journey from A to Z without stopping at any other letter along the way. It is knowing without knowing why.

There is only a black fence and a wide field and a barn of Wyeth red. The smell of anger chokes the air. Ravens of September rain descend. Some say a mad mad hermit man lived here talking to himself and the woodchuck. But he's gone. No reason. No sense. He just wandered off one day, past the onions, past the fence. Forget the letters. Forget love. Troy is nothing more than a black finger of charcoal frozen in lake ice. And near where the owl watches and the old bear dreams, the parapet of memory burns to the ground taking heaven with it.

I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt form the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from skim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.

To Mr. Jones, she said, imagine you're looking up at a blue sky, and imagine a tiny airplane skywriting the letter Z. Then let the wind erase the letter. Then imagine the plane writing the letter Y. Let the wind erase it. Then the letter X. Erase it. Then the letter W. Let the wind erase it.

(Brian) Fawcett himself had scribbled in a letter to a friend, 'Those whom the gods intend to destroy they first make mad!

Hundreds of words await ostracism from our functional vocabularies: waltz and fizz and squeeze and booze and frozen pizza pie, frizzy and fuzzy and dizzy and duzzy, the visualization of emphyzeema-zapped Tarzans, wheezing and sneezing, holding glazed and anodized bazookas, seized by all the bizarrities of this zany zone we call home. Dazed or zombified citizens who recognize hazardous organizations of zealots in their hazy midst, too late - too late to size down. Immobilized we iz. Minimalized. Paralyzed. Zip Zap. ZZZZZZZZZ. Crazy. Crazy. Did I say crazy?

Our lips just trespassed on those inner labyrinths hidden deep within our ears, filled them with the private music of wicked words, hers in many languages, mine in the off color of my own tongue, until as our tones shifted, and our consonants spun and squealed, rattled faster, hesitated, raced harder, syllables soon melting with groans, or moans finding purchase in new words, or old words, or made-up words, until we gathered up our heat and refused to release it, enjoying too much the dark language we had suddenly stumbled upon, craved to, carved to, not a communication really but a channeling of our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to Black Forests and wolves, mine banging back to a familiar form, that great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of, which in spite of our separate lusts and individual cries still continued to drive us deeper into stranger tones, our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn fueled by sound, hers screeching, mine – I didn’t hear mine – only hears, probably counter-pointing mine, a high-pitched cry, then a whisper dropping unexpectedly to practically a bark, a grunt, whatever, no sense any more, and suddenly no more curves either, just the straight away, some line crossed, where every fractured sound already spoken finally compacts into one long agonizing word, easily exceeding a hundred letters, even thunder, anticipating the inevitable letting go, when the heat is ultimately too much to bear, threatening to burn, scar, tear it all apart, yet tempting enough to hold onto for even one second more, to extend it all, if we can, as if by getting that much closer to the heat, that much more enveloped, would prove … - which when we did clutch, hold, postpone, did in fact prove too much after all, seconds too much, and impossible to refuse, so blowing all of everything apart, shivers and shakes and deep in her throat a thousand letters crashing in a long unmodulated fall, resonating deep within my cochlea and down the cochlear nerve, a last fit of fury describing in lasting detail the shape of things already come. Too bad dark languages rarely survive.

One sheds one’s sicknesses in books — repeats and presents again one’s emotions, to be master of them.’ DH Lawrence (The Letters of DH Lawrence)

It was a splendid mind. For if thought is like the keyboard of a piano, divided into so many notes, or like the alphabet is ranged in twenty-six letters all in order, then his splendid mind had one by one, firmly and accurately, until it had reached, say, the letter Q. He reached Q. Very few people in the whole of England ever reach Q. Here, stopping for one moment by the stone urn which held the geraniums, he saw, but now far, far away, like children picking up shells, divinely innocent and occupied with little trifles at their feet and somehow entirely defenceless against a doom which he perceived, his wife and son, together, in the window. They needed his protection; he gave it them. But after Q? What comes next? After Q there are a number of letters the last of which is scarcely visible to mortal eyes, but glimmers red in the distance. Z is only reached once by one man in a generation. Still, if he could reach R it would be something. Here at least was Q. He dug his heels in at Q. Q he was sure of. Q he could demonstrate. If Q then is Q--R--. Here he knocked his pipe out, with two or three resonant taps on the handle of the urn, and proceeded. "Then R ..." He braced himself. He clenched himself.

Do you ever think about how your name doesn't fit you? I mean, you're usually Kit in my head, but really I think your name should have a Z in it, because you're confusing and zigzagged and pop up in surprising places--like my lunch table and these bleachers. I really didn't think you'd come--and maybe also the neighbor eight, because... never mind, and the letter S too. It's my favorite. S. So yeah, Z8S-139. Or 139-Z8S. That's how I think of you sometimes, in my head," I say. "139-Z8S?" I ask. "Really?" "Or if you prefer, I can call you: Z8S-139. Or Z8 for short.

To pragmatists, the letter Z is nothing more than a phonetically symbolic glyph, a minor sign easily learned, readily assimilated, and occasionally deployed in the course of a literate life. To cynics, Z is just an S with a stick up its butt. Well, true enough, any word worth repeating is greater than the sum of its parts; and the particular word-part Z can, from a certain perspective, appear anally wired. On those of us neither prosaic nor jaded, however, those whom the Fates have chosen to monitor such things, Z has had an impact above and beyond its signifying function. A presence in its own right, it’s the most distant and elusive of our twenty-six linguistic atoms; a mysterious, dark figure in an otherwise fairly innocuous lineup, and the sleekest little swimmer ever to take laps in a bowl of alphabet soup. Scarcely a day of my life has gone by when I’ve not stirred the alphabetical ant nest, yet every time I type or pen the letter Z, I still feel a secret tingle, a tiny thrill… Z is a whip crack of a letter, a striking viper of a letter, an open jackknife ever ready to cut the cords of convention or peel the peach of lust. A Z is slick, quick, arcane, eccentric, and always faintly sinister - although its very elegance separates it from the brutish X, that character traditionally associated with all forms of extinction. If X wields a tire iron, Z packs a laser gun. Zap! If X is Mike Hammer, Z is James Bond. If X marks the spot, Z avoids the spot, being too fluid, too cosmopolitan, to remain in one place. In contrast to that prim, trim, self-absorbed supermodel, I, or to O, the voluptuous, orgasmic, bighearted slut, were Z a woman, she would be a femme fatale, the consonant we love to fear and fear to love.

There’s only ever been one good answer to that question “Why?” and perhaps we should have that in the alphabet as well. There’s room for it. “Why?” doesn’t have to be the last word, it isn’t even the last letter. How would it be if the alphabet ended, “V W X Why? Z,” but “V W X Why not?” Don’t ask stupid questions. —

The first letter was a “w,” the second an “e.” Then there was a gap. An “a” followed, then a “p,” an “o,” and an “l.” Marvin paused for a rest. After a few moments they resumed and let him see the “o,” the “g,” the “i,” the “z,” and the “e.” The next two words were “for” and “the.” The last one was a long one, and Marvin needed another rest before he could tackle it. It started with “i,” then “n,” then “c.” Next came an “o” and an “n,” followed by a “v,” an “e,” another “n,” and an “i.” After a final pause, Marvin gathered his strength for the last stretch. He read the “e,” the “n,” the “c,” and at last the final “e,” and staggered back into their arms.

...Zachary winched a few more letters onto his last name and declared himself king of the Z aficionados.

Muszą mnie mieć za niespełna rozumu, no bo jak to, nie umawia się z chłopcami, każdą wolną chwilę spędza nad książką i wcześnie chodzi spać. Ale co mnie to obchodzi.

Nigdy nie zaznałam tak całkowitego odprężenia i wyzwolenia z przymusu "ubierania twarzy" na spotkanie innej twarzy.

Po to, by umieć żyć z drugą osobą trzeba, moim zdaniem, nauczyć się wpierw żyć twórczo samemu.

Myślę, że najtrudniej żyć pełnią teraźniejszości i nie pozwolić, aby obawa o przyszłości albo żal z powodu minionych błędów zmąciły ją lub zniszczyły.

A jednak są oni w nas, ci dawno odeszli - jako brzemię naszego losu, w naszych skłonnościach, w szumie naszej krwi i w naszych gestach, przedzierając się do nas z głębin czasu.

Z dojrzałym życiem wiąże się w moim odczuciu nieustanna walka o to, by akceptować nieuchronność tragedii i sprzeczności, i nie uciekać się do fałszywie prostych rozwiązań, wykluczających zbyt smutne powikłania.

Ruby: I’ve decided. I’m putting my Gary on a diet. Rosie: You’re putting him on a diet? How on earth can you control what your twenty-one-year-old son eats? Ruby: Oh it’s easy; I’ll just nail down everything to the floor. Rosie: So what kind of diet is it? Ruby: I don’t know. I bought a magazine, but there are so many stupid diets out there I don’t know which one to pick. Remember that ridiculous one that you and I did last year? The alphabet one where we had to eat foods beginning with a certain letter every day? Rosie: Oh yeah! How long did we do that for?! Ruby: Em . . . that would be 26 days of course Rosie Rosie: Oh . . . right . . . of course. You put on weight on the third day. Ruby: That’s because the third day was the lucky letter “C” . . . Cakes . . . mmmm Rosie: Well we made up for it on the last day. I was bloody starving on “Z” day; I was practically chasing zebras with a kitchen knife around the zoo. Could have eaten the zoo I suppose . . . Ruby: You should have done what I did, I ate like a queen. I became German for the day and ate “ze cakes” and “ze buns.” Oh I don’t know Rosie. I think I’ll just invent a diet of my own and give those stupid magazines a run for their money

It was a boring book because it said nothing new and did so in a way that was needlessly academic and gimmicky. He would have been better off writing a book called Infinite Rest that was just the letter ‘z’ ad nauseam for eleven hundred pages.

They found a coin and helped him to the telescope. He complained and insulted them, but they helped him look at each individual letter in turn. The first letter was a 'w,' the second an 'e.' Then there was a gap. An 'a' followed, then a 'p,' an 'o,' and an 'l.' Marvin paused for a rest. After a few moments they resumed and let him see the 'o,' the 'g,' the 'i,' the 'z,' and the 'e.' The next two words were 'for' and 'the.' The last one was a long one, and Marvin needed another rest before the could tackle it. It started with 'i,' then 'n,' then 'c.' Next came an 'o' and an 'n,' followed by a 'v,' an 'e,' another 'n,' and an 'i.' After a final pause, Marvin gathered his strength for the last stretch. He read the 'e,' the 'n,' the 'c,' and at last the final 'e,' and staggered back into their arms. 'I think,' he murmured at last from deep within his corroding, rattling thorax, 'I feel good about it.' The lights went out in his eyes for absolutely the very last time ever.

As her head rests on her pillow, she’ll go through the alphabet from A to Z and try to think of something to be grateful for that starts with each letter—A for her husband Andrew’s blueberry pancakes; B for bocce, her favorite game in the summer; etc.

Marissa keeps herself entertained by rating the guys that cruise by. She has her own rating scale: each guy is assigned a letter of the alphabet. But it isn’t A to Z order—Marissa must have like a touch of autism or something, because she has this theory that some letters are sexier than others.

In the name of speed, Morse and Vail had realized that they could save strokes by reserving the shorter sequences of dots and dashes for the most common letters. But which letters would be used most often? Little was known about the alphabet’s statistics. In search of data on the letters’ relative frequencies, Vail was inspired to visit the local newspaper office in Morristown, New Jersey, and look over the type cases. He found a stock of twelve thousand E’s, nine thousand T’s, and only two hundred Z’s. He and Morse rearranged the alphabet accordingly. They had originally used dash-dash-dot to represent T, the second most common letter; now they promoted T to a single dash, thus saving telegraph operators uncountable billions of key taps in the world to come. Long afterward, information theorists calculated that they had come within 15 percent of an optimal arrangement for telegraphing English text.

From his beach bag the man took an old penknife with a red handle and began to etch the signs of the letters onto nice flat pebbles. At the same time, he spoke to Mondo about everything there was in the letters, about everything you could see in them when you looked and when you listened. He spoke about A, which is like a big fly with its wings pulled back; about B, which is funny, with its two tummies; or C and D, which are like the moon, a crescent moon or a half-full moon; and then there was O, which was the full moon in the black sky. H is high, a ladder to climb up trees or to reach the roofs of houses; E and F look like a rake and a shovel; and G is like a fat man sitting in an armchair. I dances on tiptoes, with a little head popping up each time it bounces, whereas J likes to swing. K is broken like an old man, R takes big strides like a soldier, and Y stands tall, its arms up in the air, and it shouts: help! L is a tree on the river's edge, M is a mountain, N is for names, and people waving their hands, P is asleep on one paw, and Q is sitting on its tail; S is always a snake, Z is always a bolt of lightning, T is beautiful, like the mast on a ship, U is like a vase, V and W are birds, birds in flight; and X is a cross to help you remember.

Milo nibbled carefully at the letter and discovered that it was quite sweet and delicious — just the way you’d expect an A to taste. “I knew you’d like it,” laughed the letter man, popping two G’s and an R into his mouth and letting the juice drip down his chin. “A’s are one of our most popular letters. All of them aren’t that good,” he confided in a low voice. “Take the Z, for instance — very dry and sawdusty. And the X? Why, it tastes like a trunkful of stale air. That’s why people hardly ever use them. But most of the others are quite tasty. Try some more.” He gave Milo an I, which was icy and refreshing, and Tock a crisp, crunchy C.

Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. 5 z Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but  a our sufficiency is from God, 6who has made us sufficient to be  b ministers of  c a new covenant, not of  d the letter but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but  e the Spirit gives life.

I have a little cabinet letter file on my desk that is just in front of me. I was thinking and wondering about a title for the story, and had settled on the ‘Wizard’ as part of it. My gaze was caught by the gilt letters on the three drawers of the cabinet. The first was A-G; the next drawer was labelled H-N; and on the last were the letters O-Z. And Oz it at once became.

Kanye lied when he said diamonds are forever When the heat is high, it’s the same as lead on paper We gradually recreate the movie World War Z Our worst disease becomes our best form of remedy Moving sands, no firm ground, we live in fear We join hands, bottle down, pop the Belvedere Now the question is have we all punched our clocks? Social media, we fit in a damn box

Kanye lied when he said diamonds are forever When the heat is high, it’s the same as lead on paper We gradually recreate the movie World War Z Our worst disease becomes our best form of remedy Moving sands, no firm ground, we live in fear We join hands, bottle down, pop the Belvedere Now the question is have we all punched our clocks? Social media, we fit in a damn box

I feel as if I’m about to go on an extraordinary journey, Stacey thought. This is a trip into my soul. If I’m going to keep Anneliese in love with me while we’re apart, then I need to make her feel that my heart still beats with hers. I have to make our love stronger than the gap that divides us. My written words must become my soul that she holds when she reads the letter.

He imagined a town called A. Around the communal fire they’re shaping arrowheads and carving tributes o the god of the hunt. One day some guys with spears come over the ridge, perform all kinds of meanness, take over, and the new guys rename the town B. Whereupon they hang around the communal fire sharpening arrowheads and carving tributes to the god of the hunt. Some climatic tragedy occurs — not carving the correct tributary figurines probably — and the people of B move farther south, where word is there’s good fishing, at least according to those who wander to B just before being cooked for dinner. Another tribe of unlucky souls stops for the night in the emptied village, looks around at the natural defenses provided by the landscape, and decides to stay awhile. It’s a while lot better than their last digs — what with the lack of roving tigers and such — plus it comes with all the original fixtures. they call the place C, after their elder, who has learned that pretending to talk to spirits is a fun gag that gets you stuff. Time passes. More invasions, more recaptures, D, E, F, and G. H stands as it is for a while. That ridge provides some protection from the spring floods, and if you keep a sentry up there you can see the enemy coming for miles. Who wouldn’t want to park themselves in that real estate? The citizens of H leave behind cool totems eventually toppled by the people of I, whose lack of aesthetic sense if made up for by military acumen. J, K, L, adventures in thatched roofing, some guys with funny religions from the eastern plains, long-haired freaks from colder climes, the town is burned to the ground and rebuilt by still more fugitives. This is the march of history. And conquest and false hope. M falls to plague, N to natural disaster — same climatic tragedy as before, apparently it’s cyclical. Mineral wealth makes it happen for the O people, and the P people are renowned for their basket weaving. No one ever — ever — mentions Q. The dictator names the city after himself; his name starts with the letter R. When the socialists come to power they spend a lot of time painting over his face, which is everywhere. They don’t last. Nobody lasts because there’s always somebody else. They all thought they owned it because they named it and that was their undoing. They should have kept the place nameless. They should have been glad for their good fortune, and left it at that. X, Y, Z.

Ludzie zbanalizowali wszystko za pomocą licznych konwencji, rozpuścili wszystko w łatwiźnie; ale jest jasne, że musimy trzymać się tego, co trudne - wszystko, co żyje, trzyma się tego, wszystko w naturze rośnie i broni się we właściwy sobie sposób i jest czymś swoistym samo z siebie, stara się tym być za wszelką cenę i wbrew wszelkim przeszkodom. Mało wiemy - ale wiemy na pewno, że musimy trzymać się tego, co trudne i pewność ta nigdy nas nie opuści.

Alternatively, the name may refer to the prized textile dye, ranging in hue from red to dark purple, which was Phoenicia’s prime luxury product. Extracted from sea mollusks’ dead bodies through a secret process, this uniquely beautiful and expensive purple, exported in woven clothing and furnishings, became an international status symbol in antiquity, its use confined to the very rich, chiefly royalty. Down through the early 20th century A.D., the color purple was associated in Europe with kings and emperors.

The twenty-seventh was Blackstar, or simply (the symbol of blackstar) - a suggestion that the A-Z was over, but there was more to come, beyond the known alphabet, beyond ordinary language; a second set of letters, communications, a rebirth. Inside the A to Z, and all the possible combinations of songs, styles, secrets, themes, discoveries, redirections, emotional climaxes, sheer drama, tension, relief, beauty, there was all you needed to know in order to construct and understand the language of Bowie (re morley's alphabet of bowie albums)

It was the Battle of the Somme—or what the Germans, who suffered massive casualties as well, referred to in letters home as “the bath of blood.” On the first day of the offensive, nearly twenty thousand British soldiers died and almost forty thousand were wounded. It was the greatest loss of life in the history of the British military, and many in the West began to portray the “savage” as European rather than as some native in the jungle. Fawcett, quoting a companion, wrote that cannibalism “at least provides a reasonable motive for killing a man, which is more than you can say for civilized warfare.

The study of algebra in its own right, as a symbolic system apart from its applications, began to flourish in Renaissance Europe. It reached its pinnacle in the 1500s, when it started to look like what we know today, with letters used to represent numbers. In France in 1591, François Viète designated unknown quantities with vowels, like A and E, and used consonants, like B and G, for constants. (Today’s use of x, y, z for unknowns and a, b, c for constants came from the work of René Descartes about fifty years later.) Replacing words with letters and symbols made it much easier to manipulate equations and find solutions.

(...) rest content and satisfied that as you are caught in the noose of love it is one of worth and merit that has taken you, and one that has not only the the four S's that they say true lovers ought to have, but a complete alphabet; only listen to me and you will see how I can repeat it by rote. He is to my eyes and thinking, Amiable, Brave, Courteous, Distinguished, Elegant, Fond, Gay, Honorable, Illustrious, Loyal, Manly, Noble, Open, Polite, Quickwitted, Rich, and the S's according to the saying, and then Tender, Veracious: X does not suite him, for it is a rough letter; Y has been given already; and Z Zealous for your honour.

My personal life is as monotonous as ever; but they have given me permission to walk in the garden, where there are almost seventeen trees ! This is a great happiness for me. Moreover, I am given a candle in the evenings—that's my second piece of luck. The third will be mine if you answer as soon as possible, and send me the next number of the 0. Z. I am in the same position as a country subscriber, and await each number as a great event, like some landed proprietor dying of boredom in the provinces. Will you send me some historical works ? That would be splendid. But best of all would be the Bible (both Testaments). I need one. Should it prove possible, send it in a French translation. But if you could add as well a Slav edition, it would be the height of bliss. Of

I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from skim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.

My personal favorite version of the game, Speed Scrabble, is played with tiles only. Each player selects seven tiles. At the call to start, each player turns over his or her tiles. Using these letters, the player creates an individual grid of six letters, with two or possibly three intersecting words, selecting one letter to pass along. The first player to finish calls out the word switch, passes the rejected tiles to the player at the right, and turns over two new tiles from the general pile. Each player then incorporates the new tiles into his or her grid, always rejecting one to pass along at the word switch. Obvious rejects are Q and Z, which usually get passed around. The game is played until the tiles are depleted and one person calls out the word finished. If no one has any questions about the winner's grid, the points on the tiles are added up. Losers deduct the number of points of the unused letters. Each round takes about fifteen or twenty minutes max...

sighed. “I can’t say that you weren’t expected.” “I’m just going to be walking around here and taking some measurements. It says here… you own eighty acres? That is one of the most gorgeous mansions I have ever seen,” he rambled on. “It must have cost you millions. I could never afford such a beauty. Well, heck, for that matter I couldn’t afford the millions of dollars in taxes a house like this would assess, let alone such a pricey property. Do you have an accountant?” Zo opened her mouth to respond, but he continued, “For an estate this size, I would definitely have one.” “I do have an accountant,” she cut in, with frustration. “Furthermore, I have invested a lot of money bringing this mansion up to speed. You can see my investment is great.” “Of course, it would be. The fact of the matter is, Mrs. Kane, a lot of people are in over their heads in property. You still have to pay up, or we take the place. Well, I’ll get busy now. Pay no mind to me.” He walked on, taking notes. “Clairrrrre!” Zo called as soon as she entered the house. “Bring your cell phone!” Two worry-filled months went by and many calls were made to lawyers, before Zoey finally picked one that made her feel confident. And then the letter came with the totals and the due date. “There is no way we can pay this, Mom, even if we sold off some of our treasures, because a lot of them are contracted to museums anyway. I am feeling awfully poor all of a sudden, and insecure.” “Yes, and I did some research, thinking I’d be forced to sell. It’s unlikely that anyone else around here can afford this place. It looks like they are going to get it all; they aren’t just charging for this year. What we have here is a value about equal to a little country. And all the new construction sites for housing developments suddenly popping up on this side of the river, does not help. Value is going up.” Zo put her head in her hands. “Ohhh, oh, oh, oh!” “Yeah, bring out the ice-cream and cake. I need comforting,” sighed Claire. The cell phone rang. “Yes, tonight? You guys have become pretty good to us, haven’t you?! You know, Bob, Mom and I thought we were just going to pig out on ice cream and cake. We found out we are losing this estate and are going to be poor again and we are bummed out.” There was a long pause. “No, that’s okay, I understand. Yeah, okay, bye.” “Well?” Zo ask dryly. “He was appropriately sorry, and he got off the phone fast, saying he remembered he had other business to take care of. Do you want to cry? I do…” “I’ll get the cake and dish the ice cream. You make our tea and we’ll cry together.” A pitter patter began to drum on the window. “Rain again. It seems softer though, dear.” “I thought you said this was going to be a softer rain!” It started to pour. “At least this is not a thunder storm… What was that?” “Thunder,” replied Claire, unmoved and resigned. An hour had gone by when there was a rapping at the door. “People rarely use the doorbell, ever notice that?” Zo asked on the way to the door. She opened it to reveal two wet guys holding a pizza, salad, soft drink, and giant chocolate chip cookies in a plastic container. In a plastic

Mój drogi Panie! Nie powinien Pan zostać bez pozdrowień ode mnie w czas Bożego Narodzenia, zwłaszcza że przy święcie samotność może Panu ciążyć bardziej niż zwykle. Ale jeśli Pan wtedy spostrzeże, że jest ona wielka, to niech Pan się z tego cieszy; czymże bowiem (proszę sobie pomyśleć) byłaby samotność bez tej wielkości; istnieje tylko jedna samotność, ta wielka, i niełatwo dźwigać jej brzemię. I bywają chwile - prawie wszyscy je znają - gdy z chęcią zamienilibyśmy ją na jaką bądź choćby najbanalniejszą i najtańszą wspólnotę, na pozorną, nic nieznaczącą zgodność z pierwszym lepszym, najmniej godnym człowiekiem... Ale zarazem są to chyba te właśnie chwile, w których wzrasta samotność; jej wzrastanie jest bowiem bolesne jak dorastanie chłopca i smutne jak początek wiosny. To jednak nie powinno Pana wprawiać w zamęt. Ważne jest przecież tylko to: samotność, wielka wewnętrzna samotność. Trzeba się na to zdobyć - zagłębić się w siebie i całymi godzinami nikogo nie widywać. Być samotnym tak, jak było się samotnym, będąc dzieckiem, w otoczeniu dorosłych i ich spraw, które wydawały się ważne i wielkie, ponieważ ci duzi wyglądali na bardzo czymś zaabsorbowanych i ich poczynania były dla nas zupełnie niepojęte. I jeśli pewnego dnia ujrzy człowiek, że ich zajęcia są marne, że ich praca zawodowa skostniała i zatraciła związek z życiem, to czemu nie spoglądać dalej na to wszystko jak dziecko, jak na coś obcego, za horyzont mając zawsze głębię własnego świata, rozległość własnej samotności, co sama jest pracą, rangą i zawodem? Czemu mielibyśmy chcieć zamienić mądre niezrozumienie dziecka na niechęć i pogardę. Wszak niezrozumienie oznacza bycie samemu, natomiast niechęć i pogarda - udział w tym, od czego człowiek chce się za ich pomocą odseparować.

Drogi Piotrze!(...)Ja jestem dobrodusznym, ociężałym, dużym, tłustym bernardynem, który uwielbia leżeć sobie spokojnie na słońcu obok pełnej miski i życzliwie spoglądać na świat w rzadkich momentach, w których zechce mu się unieść powiekę. Ty sprawiasz wrażenie teriera, który gania, szczekając, po całym podwórku, a to kota popędzi, a to jeża obszczeka, a to za kretem kopać zaczyna, sypiąc bernardynowi prosto w nos piaskiem. (Z.Beksiński, z listu do Piotra Dmochowskiego)

More and more rules were added until people tried to standardise spelling in the eighteenth century - by which time the language was already an unruly adolescent of 1300 years, throwing letters all over the place.

I know Oz, now," she said, and in the carving of the lintel she found that common ideogram, a Z circled with an O. "Usually letters don't hide inside each other," she told Glinda firmly. "No, that's true. In Oz, I suppose, something is always hiding...

Lab126’s name itself is a play on A to Z, with 1 representing the first letter of the alphabet and 26 the last.)

ABCDE FGHIJ KLMNO PQRST UVWXYZ And each part has five letters, except the last; but Z is used so seldom that it can be lumped together with Y. I then wrote my real message to Mum,

The letter was signed Wallis Wallace in loopy letters. Dink grinned. “Pretty neat, huh?” “Pretty neat, Mister Duncan!” teased Josh. “You should have that letter framed,” Ruth Rose said. “Great idea!” Dink said. They passed Howard’s Barbershop. Howard waved through his window as they hurried by. “Come on!” Dink urged as he dragged his friends down the street to the Book Nook. They looked through the window, out of breath. The

Mastering Letters and Numbers by Maisie Aletha Smikle Get ready You are ready I am ready We are ready We must earn So let's learn To count to ten And use a pen 1, 2 oh no you got boo boo 3, 4 we can do more 5, 6 it's half past six 7, 8 we shan’t be late 9, 10 let's count again To write a note Or give a quote You’ll need your numbers And letters too To succeed Books we’ll read Do good deed And never speed ABCDEFG... O my g... HIJKLMNOP... I ran to pee QRSTUV... We sip some tea WXY and Z ...Let’s go and zzzz I’ll come calling in the morning And we'll practice till in the evening For we shan’t give up on learning or achieving Nor our goal to succeed in Counting from one to ten And writing letters with a pen To learn we must from dawn to dusk For education is a must

I was happy thinking only about letters and suddenly they began to compose into something, so dangerous when they get together. But at bottom they are careless. Childish. A, B, H, M, O, . . . so rare X. The Z, an amnesiac, ing in decline, his twin brother S with all the cunning of a usurper.

Kanye lied when he said diamonds are forever When the heat is high, it’s the same as lead on paper We gradually recreate the movie World War Z Our worst disease becomes our best form of remedy Moving sands, no firm ground, we live in fear We join hands, bottle down, pop the Belvedere Now the question is have we all punched our clocks Social media, we fit in a damn box

What Robert Thompson and many others want to dismiss as a coincidence or a gut feeling is in fact a cognitive process, faster than we recognize and far different from the familiar step-by-step thinking we rely on so willingly. We think conscious thought is somehow better, when in fact, intuition is soaring flight compared to the plodding of logic. Nature’s greatest accomplishment, the human brain, is never more efficient or invested than when its host is at risk. Then, intuition is catapulted to another level entirely, a height at which it can accurately be called graceful, even miraculous. Intuition is the journey from A to Z without stopping at any other letter along the way. It is knowing without knowing why. At just the moment when our intuition is most basic, people

What Robert Thompson and many others want to dismiss as a coincidence or a gut feeling is in fact a cognitive process, faster than we recognize and far different from the familiar step-by-step thinking we rely on so willingly. We think conscious thought is somehow better, when in fact, intuition is soaring flight compared to the plodding of logic. Nature’s greatest accomplishment, the human brain, is never more efficient or invested than when its host is at risk. Then, intuition is catapulted to another level entirely, a height at which it can accurately be called graceful, even miraculous. Intuition is the journey from A to Z without stopping at any other letter along the way. It is knowing without knowing why. At just the moment when our intuition is most basic, people tend to consider it amazing or supernatural.

Marc Z. Brettler: The Pentateuch; The Historical Books; The Poetical and Wisdom Books, The Canons of the Bible [with Pheme Perkins]; The Hebrew Bible's Interpretation of Itself; Jewish Interpretation in the Premodern Era Michael D. Coogan: Textual Criticism [with Pheme Perkins]; Translations of the Bible into English [with Pheme Perkins]; The Interpretation of the Bible: From the Nineteenth to the Mid‐ twentieth Centuries; The Geography of the Bible; The Ancient Near East; Time [with Pheme Perkins] Carol A. Newsom: The Apocryphal/ Deuterocanonical Books; Christian Interpretation in the Premodern Era; Contemporary Methods in Biblical Study; The Persian and Hellenistic Periods Pheme Perkins: The Gospels; Letters/ Epistles in the New Testament; The Canons of the Bible [with Marc Z. Brettler]; Textual Criticism [with Michael D. Coogan]; Translation of the Bible into English [with Michael D. Coogan]; The New Testament Interprets the Jewish Scriptures; The Roman Period; Time [with Michael D. Coogan]

Everything takes place in the before-work, a prehistoric season when the characters, smitten with great dead authors, see themselves as books already, as volumes in their dreams, stealing up on the dreamed "Oeuvre," stealthy as wolves, on tiptoe like fools—closing in on the adored Author by Imitation, tracing paper, magic introjection. The copycat "does" Kafka, turns himself into Kafka, from A to Z commits Kafka suicide, right up to the spitting of blood, right up to the deathbed scene.

Hi there,” the man said. “How can I help you kids?” “Someone set a fire in the meadow behind my barn last night,” Josh said. “We think whoever set it used pallets from this store.” Ruth Rose showed Mr. Robb the chunk of burned wood. Mr. Robb examined the letters ET CO. “Yep, looks the same,” he said. “A lot of our merchandise comes stacked on these things.” “Did you give any pallets to a tall man a couple of days ago?” Dink asked. Mr. Robb smiled. “People who want pallets usually just take them,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you.

The Etruscans latched on to the Greek alphabet early. Among their contributions was the letter F, repurposing a Greek letter that was pronounced like our W. When the Romans adapted the Etruscan alphabet, they jettisoned several letters because they had no need for them. But during the first century BC the Romans started to use Greek words, so they put back the letters Y and Z, adding the “new” letters to the end.

respect those who labor among you and n are over you in the Lord and admonish you, 13 and to esteem them very highly in love because of their work. o Be at peace among yourselves. 14[✞] And we urge you, brothers, admonish p the idle, 1 q encourage the fainthearted, r help the weak, s be patient with them all. 15[✞] See that t no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always u seek to do good to one another and to everyone. 16 v Rejoice always, 17 w pray without ceasing, 18 x give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 19[✞] y Do not quench the Spirit. 20 Do not despise z prophecies, 21 but a test everything; hold fast what is good. 22 Abstain from every form of evil. 23[✞] Now may b the God of peace himself c sanctify you completely, and may your d whole e spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at f the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. 24 g He who calls you is faithful; h he will surely do it. 25 i Brothers, pray for us. 26 j Greet all the brothers with a holy kiss. 27[✞] I put you under oath before the Lord to have k this letter read to all the brothers. 28 l The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

I fall asleep by going through the alphabet, thinking of something to be grateful for with each letter from A to Z (A is for the apple pancakes my son made us, and so on).

The Army will follow protocol to the letter. Trusting that their superiors know what’s going on they will quarantine infected areas leaving those who have not yet been bitten unable to escape. They will pay no attention to anyone who is trying to explain to them that their whole family has just been infected, and they will happily nuke entire cities just to keep the infection under control, with no regard for anyone who may still be alive inside. After all, what’s a little collateral damage between friends? What do they have to worry about? They’ve got guns as standard issue. And they probably started the whole thing anyway through some deranged weapons experiment.

Hij las alles, van a tot z. De inkt was verbleekt. Met moeite onderscheidde hij de vage lijnen der letters. De blinde die hij had gezien op straat, kwam hem in gedachten. En hijzelf speelde met zijn ogen alsof ze tot in eeuwigheid geopend zouden blijven! In plaats van hun werktijd te beperken, breidde hij die lichtzinnigheid van maand tot maand uit. Ieder papier dat hij weglegde, kostte zijn ogen een hoeveelheid kijkkracht. Honden leven maar kort en honden lezen niet, daardoor zijn ze in staat blinden met hun ogen te helpen. Iemand die het licht van zijn ogen verspilt, is een waardige metgezel van het dier dat hem leidt.

Our early training in the alphabet is mainly about submitting for the first time to an arbitrary discipline. The implacable order of letters will not be rearranged to please the child; no cute pleas or frightening howls will change it. Memorizing the order of the letters is an induction into the child’s inherited culture, a set of rules that initially appear equally arbitrary, but which make human society possible.

She’s known as the Queen B. And not bee like the insect, or Jay-Z’s wife. The letter B, as in beyotch. She first made her money with a self-help book she wrote called Bitches Do Better, which became a number one New York Times bestseller when she was only twenty-one. Then she wrote half a dozen more Bitch books, started doing speaking engagements, and became a life coach for some über-swank clients. Teaching them her bitchy secrets for success, apparently.

You can play the alphabet game, A to Z, naming a public company for each letter.

Look at the W-I-Z-A-R-D part and then change the letters for their opposite ones in the alphabet, and something different happens. To explain it better. The letter A in wizard would be replaced by the letter Z and vice-versa. If you do this with the letters in wizard, then what you end up getting is…...wizard just it is all in reverse.

Creating Strong Passwords One method used to make passwords more secure is to require them to be strong. A strong password is at least eight characters in length, doesn’t include words found in a dictionary or any part of a user’s name, and combines three of the four following character types: Uppercase characters (26 letters A–Z) Lowercase characters (26 letters a–z) Numbers (10 numbers 0–9) Special characters (32 printable characters, such as !, $, and *) A complex password uses multiple character types, such as Ab0@. However, a complex password isn’t necessarily strong. It also needs to be sufficiently long. It’s worth noting that recommendations for the best length of a strong password vary depending on the type of account.

both zed and zee were used interchangeably in both British and American English, alongside a whole host of other more outlandish names for Z including izzard, shard, ezod and uzzard, all of which have long since fallen out of use. Of the two, zed is the earlier, derived at length from the name of the equivalent Greek letter zeta and first attested in written

I've heard rumors that if we get too weak to give blood, they feed us to the zeds." Hannah just stared at her in horror a moment before asking, "The zeds?" "Yeah. You know, like how the Brits say the letter z? For zombie?" "Oh." "What do you call them?" Hannah thought about it a second before saying, "The scary dead things that ate my parents. But yours is catchier.

Likewise, India’s Hindi and Pakistan’s Urdu are fundamentally the same tongue, only using Devanagari script in India, Arabic letters in Pakistan. And Yiddish, while not exactly German, is closely akin to it. Yet Yiddish is written in Hebrew letters, and German in Roman ones.

The Phoenician alphabet of 1000 B.C. would become the great-grandmother of our own. About 19 of our letters can be traced back directly—in their shapes, their alphabetical sequence, and, for most, their sounds—to Phoenician counterparts. Ours is not the only descendant. As shown in the “Family Tree of the World’s Alphabets” (this page), the Phoenician alphabet has been the source for nearly every subsequent alphabet, past and present.

The Phoenicians were a dynamic Iron Age people, based in what is now Lebanon. Today they are remembered as the best seafarers of the ancient world. In the 700s B.C. they spanned the length of the Mediterranean with a seaborne trade network, exchanging luxury goods from the East for raw materials from the West: Babylonian textiles, Egyptian metalwork, and Phoenician carved ivory were traded for elephant tusks from North Africa and bars of silver and tin from Spain.

The Phoenicians were Semites, akin in ethnic group and language to the ancient Jews. Phoenician speech would have sounded much like ancient Hebrew. Israel—the Jewish kingdom of David and Solomon—

Our word “Phoenician” comes from ancient Greek. Phoinikes, “red people,” was what the Greeks called them, probably in reference to their copper skin color.

C: always had the sound of English k. The facts upon which this statement is founded are as follows: (a) The pronunciation of this letter is so described for us by Martianus Capella (III. 261) as to prove it a hard palatal. (b) C took the place of an original k in the early alphabet as previously stated; and in succeeding ages at times c reappears in inscriptions indifferently before the various vowels. Thus we have the form Caelius alternating with Kaelius, Cerus with Kerus, and decembres with dekembres,—showing that c and k were identical in sound. Quintilian (I. 7. 10) says: "As regards k, I think it should not be used in any words...This remark I have not failed to make, for the reason that there are some who think k necessary when a follows; though there is the letter C, which has the same power before all vowels." (c) In the Greek transliteration of Latin names, Latin c is always represented by k; and in Latin transliteration of Greek names, k is always represented by Latin c. And we know that Greek k was never assibilated before any vowel. Suidas calls the C on the Roman senators' shoes, "the Roman kappa." (d) Words taken into Gothic and Old High German from the Latin at an early period invariably represent Latin c by k; thus, Latin carcer gives the Gothic karkara and the German Kerker; Latin Caesar gives the German Kaiser; Latin lucerna gives the Gothic lukarn; the Latin cellarium gives the German Keller; the Latin cerasus gives the German Kirsche. Also in late Hebrew, Latin c is regularly represented in transliteration by the hard consonant kôph. [Advocates of the English system claim that Latin c had the sound of s before e or i because every modern language derived from the Latin has in some way modified c when thus used. It is true that modern languages have so modified it; but, as already noted, the modern languages are the children not of the classical Latin spoken in the days of Cicero, but of the provincial Latin spoken five or six centuries later. There is no doubt that at this late period, Latin c had become modified before e or i so as to be equivalent to s or z. Latin words received into German at this time represent c before e or i by z. But had this modification been a part of the usage of the classical language, it would have been noticed by the grammarians, who discuss each letter with great minuteness. Now no grammarian ever mentions more than one sound for Latin c. Again, if Latin c had ever had the sound of s, surely some of the Greeks, ignorant of Latin and spelling by ear, would at least occasionally have represented Latin c by σ,—a thing which none of them has ever done. It is probable that the modification of c which is noticed in the modern languages was a characteristic of the Umbrian and Oscan dialects and so prevailed to some extent in the provinces, but there is absolutely not the slightest evidence to show that it formed a part of the pronunciation of cultivated men at Rome.]

The sound of some initials is similar to that of English letters: b like “b” in ball p like “p” in push m like “m” in mine f like “f” in far d like “d” in day t like “t” in tea n like “n” in name l like “l” in look g like “g” in girl k like “k” in kind h like “h” in hot j like “j” in just q like “ch” in cheese x like “sh” in sheep z like “ds” in reads c like “ts” in sits s like “s” in silk zh like “dge” in judge ch like “ch” in rich sh like “sh” in shop r like “r” in rubber y like “y” in yellow w like “w” in way

TATTOOED NUMBERS, AS BLOOM had already established, were used to identify prisoners at just one concentration camp—the Auschwitz complex in Upper Silesia—and then just from 1941 onward. Only prisoners selected for work received a serial number, Epstein explained. Those who were sent directly to the gas chambers—including the elderly, the weak, and children—were not tattooed, although in the early days of the camp those who were in the infirmary or marked for execution were also tattooed on the chest using a metal stamp made up of interchangeable centimeter-long needles that allowed the tattoo to be created using a single blow, after which ink was rubbed into the wound. The digits were generally tattooed on the outer side of the left forearm, although some prisoners from transports in 1943 received tattoos on the inner forearm. The numbering sequences used varied over time, according to intake and the nature of the prisoners involved. An AU series denoted a Soviet prisoner, a Z series a Gypsy. A and B sequences up to 20,000 were used to identify male and female prisoners arriving at the camp after 1944, although an administrative error resulted in the B series exceeding 20,000. The Nazis’ original intention was to get as far as the final letter of the alphabet if required.

Dear Diary, “Z! Get up for school!” my mom yelled at me this evening. The sun had just gone down, and the moon was on the way up, which meant that it was time to get ready for school. My name is Zombulon, Z for short, and I’m a zombie. Looking at my name and what kind of creature I am really makes my parents look lazy, but I don’t think that they ever imagined that they’d have another kid after my older brother because his name is Arrgh, or R for short. My parents are really into one-letter nicknames. Once my brother called my parents M and D for a while, but they didn’t like that at all. It really wasn’t fair. What also isn’t fair is that I’ve got to wake up right at nightfall for school when all of the other kids get to wake up at the crack of dawn. I bet they all feel really lucky about it. It must be great to be able to wake up to the sun in your eyes instead of having to go to bed when it comes up. Being a zombie is really complicated for a lot of reasons, but my main complaint is that I can’t go outside during the day because if I do I’ll burn up. It’s like all of those stories about vampires who turn to dust in the sunlight, except for zombies are real and I just happen to be one of them. Because zombies can’t go out into the sun, most of them tend to be afraid of anything that can go into the sun and live to tell the tale. I swear that once R ran away from a chicken just because he had never seen one before. It was pretty funny. The punch in the arm that he gave me after I laughed at him was not funny. Another weird thing about being a zombie, or a monster in general around here, is that we’ve all got to go to night school. Usually, when humans talk about night school, they’re complaining about adults who they think are dumber than them for not going to college right away and waiting to take classes after work or something. My mom complains about it every once in a while, and then my dad reminds her that their best human friend went to night school and now he’s loaded. Anyway, monster night school is different. It’s just a bunch of kids like me going to school together at night. Zombies, skeletons, pigmen, and other monsters are all allowed to go to the school. Personally, I think that the humans and villagers just don’t want us to scare their kids. Anyway, Mom’s pitching a fit downstairs, so I guess that I better get ready for school. After all, it is my first day of middle school, so she wants everything to be extra special for me. I’m going to write all about it tomorrow when I actually have some news. I’m sure I will because today is going to be the first day of school this year, and new stuff always happens on the first day.

Writing in Egypt began around 3000 B.C. The official system was hieroglyphics (“sacred carvings”), revered as the gift of the scribe god Toth.

Any picture could be employed either as (1) a pictograph or logogram or (2) a phonetic symbol. A sailboat image might mean “boat” or “to sail”—or it might simply contribute certain consonant sounds to help spell a different word. In hieroglyphics, an owl and a reed together meant “there,” not “an owl and a reed.” Read phonetically, the two pictures approximated the sound of the

Any picture could be employed either as (1) a pictograph or logogram or (2) a phonetic symbol. A sailboat image might mean “boat” or “to sail”—or it might simply contribute certain consonant sounds to help spell a different word. In hieroglyphics, an owl and a reed together meant “there,” not “an owl and a reed.” Read phonetically, the two pictures approximated the sound of the Egyptian word for “there.

Less rigorous was the second Egyptian writing system, hieratic. (The name, which is misleading, means “priestly,” but other social classes used it.) Hieratic was a simplified hieroglyphic script, designed for ink and brush on papyrus or textile: Pictures were converted to stylized outlines or strokes, with a far reduced vocabulary. Hieratic writing in its most basic form was accessible to most of the Egyptian upper and middle classes: landowners, certain merchants, and military officers.