“Are you an artist?” Well, I can say this much: to think of it in that way ruins everything.
Philip Talkington, Memoirs of a Ditch Digger.
When the cultural form is dead—or dying—then the practitioner should pay proper heed. He ought to be keen not to produce more short stories and novels. He should be resolute about not producing them. But what does he actually do?
Jonathan Biggles, A Chain of Accidents.
“A brand new chin. Can you imagine it? She went out and got a new chin. A chin!” Sometimes Paulie could be just bowled over by the culture.
Charles Jeffrey Yett, Writing in Miniature—Vol. 3.
The physicist proceeds as though his terms have already been decided. But isn’t it just possible that the crucial thing is to define one’s terms?
Luggen Morwinckel, How the Mirror Works.
“I warn you, Carlie, I will see all sorts of things. And what you want me to pay attention to I will fail to notice altogether.” Once again, Carlotta has invited James to take a look at the family snapshots.
Anselm Bligh, A Collection of Miniatures.
171. What could be more __________ than the tail-light array of a Toyota Camry?
A. dignified
B. vapid
C. portentous
D. wretched
Carter Faraday, Standardized Tests and Nihilism.
“Oh, yes, I like that Miss Marple,” said Jacqueline. “She has that twinkle of the eye. The kind that might have nothing at all to do with cosmetic contact lenses.”
Corliss Archer, Boarding the Crazy Train.
I dread insanity. I do fear “going” insane. I dread the grinding mechanical sameness of it—day after day, minute after minute.
Tristram Speaker, A Book of Postulates.
Of theories proposed by man? All but a very small portion have been shown to be false. Theory and falsehood walk hand in hand.
Gilbert Ravening, The Phantom of Mechanical Consistency.
Kenneth sealed himself away in his shambles of a room. And he did this for days. For weeks on end. Working, as he called it. Working on his long narrative poem, his masterpiece: “Drunken Eleanor.”
Jason Starling, ed., Adventures in Narrative Parsimony.
dennis scharnberg 