“And how do we find out about the present?” No one spoke, so he answered his own question: “We wait.”
Pryce Cummings, Rattle Box.
“For what it’s worth, Katie, I think that our ancestors are profoundly embarrassed by us.”
Lawrence Bird, Make It So.
The house that you dwell in is your box. Your trunk. A seaman’s chest.
Quentin Drabb, Ebenezer’s Untold Tales.
“What’s the matter, Irene? What’s wrong?” He could barely hear her as she disappeared round the corner. “Everything. Everything is wrong.”
Jason Starling, ed., Adventures in Narrative Parsimony.
How does one react to something that is disgusting? How that question is answered will determine the fate of a society.
Winston Joyce, Rational Agent Theory.
“If you actually do care, Ellen, then you need to stop caring.”
Georgina Hickes, An Ornamental Murder.
“We don’t have the words anymore, Molly. Ludicrous means nothing today. Ridiculous doesn’t come close. Clown show means nothing. Circus—nothing.”
Pryce Cummings, Rattle Box.
“His body was found at the foot of Wolf Canyon. Yesterday morning.”
“Well, canyons don’t come any finer than that one, Donna. That I do know.”
Everson Dwight, Theory of Machines, a Novel.
Rule 18. If the ideal is unattainable for you personally, then redefine the ideal as a pathology. And attack it.
Dell Arbogast, The Null Hypothesis and Other Stories.
“Since when,” demanded Lucas, “is being ashamed some kind of virtue? I mean, what the hell?”
Devona Twilly, Shallowness, a Novel.
dennis scharnberg 