“In terms of what makes us human, it’s not the things that are the same, it’s the things that are different that matter.” Jonathan Marks
For something light-hearted:
Imaginative Fiction
Supposed the table's turned,
And she was in my place,
Then she'd be up late typing
And I'd stare off in space.
I think I'd like the next day off
To vegitate and doze.
But I ask, dear readers, how much sense expect--
It's vagrant typing that makes a chimpanzee's prose.
(That is, before she defecates on the typewriter
or throws it across the room.)