dennis scharnberg

“But how does it make you feel, Deborah?  How does the picture make you feel?”

Jane Chetwynde,  The Have-Not Faradays.

…then, suddenly, it all disintegrates into a fine pale dust and is blown away in the slightest breeze.

Pryce Cummings,  Rattle Box.

Down the hall, in a pool of light, there hung a painting.  A portrait.  A self-portrait of Lindsay, looking like the tadpole he always had been.

Corinna Sparks,  Turning to Stone.

Solipsism and Narcissism are ornaments that hang from the Philosophy Tree.

Christopher Allyn,  Militant Vulgarity.

It was like approaching a cabinet, with the idea of organizing its contents.  Secretly.

Jack Dawes,  Circus Interruptus.

The narcissist has to be told that he is looking in the mirror.  He has no self-awareness at all.

Cedric Plumm,  Calpurnia’s Dream and Other Essays.

“How many questions, Lieutenant?”

“Nine.  You need to answer nine questions.”

Everson Dwight,  Being and Murder.

The picture is the story.

Godfrey Tooke,  Collected Aphorisms.

“Listen very carefully,” sneered Ben, “an art historian is speaking!”

Augustus Bligh,  Crawlspace.

Brian could admit to one mistake.  Readily.  But not to two.  And certainly not to three.

Giles Coxe-Coburn,  Tooth and Claw.