Writing Samples

  • https://intellectualtakeout.org/2023/03/dressing-as-if-it-matters-korte/ -
  • Sentimental Clutter - My paper project has taken me from the present to the past and back again.
  • Sounds - “The queer little noises that no one explains, ‘Til the moon through the slats of my window blind rains.” (Unknown)           Little sounds in the country keep me up at night, but I’m learning to cope, slowly.   I knew I had a problem when I was irritated one morning by the sound of birds chirping. 
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  • We Want Stuff - My early days of earning money to buy the necessities of life taught me more than dollars and cents.
  • Not Allowed - What is not allowed in child-hood forms much of our behavior as adults.
  • Hit It - by Maida Korte “……I play each point like my life depends on it.”  – Rafael Nadal The chatter can be heard from beyond the glass door as I peak inside before entering.  Pretty women with manicured nails and bouncy pony tails lace up colorful shoes.  Smart gals all, accomplished and smiling with white teeth and
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  • Beyond Mediocrity - Maida Korte “Have you ever felt the longing for someone you could admire? For something, not to look down at, but up to?”“I’ve felt it all my life,” she said.”  (Ayn Rand – Atlas Shrugged)           The final scene in the film ‘Amadeus’, Salieri is wheeled down a corridor proclaiming that he is the master
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  • …..Late to the Game - by Maida Korte “Punctuality is the politeness of kings.”  – Louis XVIII of France           I used to be late all the time.  I am now late less and moving toward never but I can’t promise.   I come from good ‘lateness’ stock. My mother was late, my grand-mother on my mother’s side was late, my
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  • The Tool Belt - By Maida Korte “Ho, for the Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee!He was as wicked as wicked could be.But oh, he was perfectly gorgeous to see!The Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee.” (Mildred Plew Miegs)           Andy likes to do nice things for me.  His ideas as to what those nice things are come from his boy
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  • Ready - by Maida Korte             “Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big sob gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape…………the wafts from his old home pleaded, whispered, conjured, and finally claimed him imperiously…”  – Kenneth Grahame             According
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