Bradley had performed a task effectively. “I couldn’t be more proud,” he said, softly.
Lane Vivian, A Knob of Old Cheese and Ten Short Tales.
Some things we know, and some things we don’t. But this I do know: A mirror is a paltry world.
Hamilton Barca, The Black Vapor.
“We are not as complicated as we sometimes think. And we are not as interesting. But that does not prevent us from being utter mystery.” Having entered the three short sentences into his journal, Broderick was struck—and not for the first time—by the oddness of his ideas.
Giles Coxe-Coburn, Tooth and Claw.
Dan didn’t think. He just didn’t think. He has no one but himself to blame for not thinking. Dan did not think.
Silas Burbage, The Adventurous Half-Life of Buddy Boyo.
“Please stop, won’t you? Please, just stop.” These words, spoken softly, were Kyle’s last line of defense against the awful flood of memories.
Agatha Vox, When Everything Was Singing.
“Soul patch and snatch. That’s all there is, really.” Kirby decided a long time ago that our culture is based on two obsessions: (1) appearance and (2) spasms.
Pryce Cummings, Rattle Box.
Jameson was considering a new series of bumper stickers: “A Picture Holds Me Captive” “Question Questioning” “What Is Wrong Here?” “Eradicate Uncertainty!” Or this: “Save As.”
Anselm Bligh, A Collection of Miniatures.
“Our popular culture is a cesspool,” declared the voice on the radio. “No,” thought Bob. “No, no. That can’t be right. After all, cesspools serve an important practical purpose.”
Trent Bendix, Patricia Knows Best.
Cell Phone: advent of the light, whereas before we were living in darkness.
Nathaniel Bumppo, The Final Word.
“These days, it is difficult to do anything—even hold an opinion—without being cute about it.” Franklin was grumbling about the wretched, nasty way that is self-consciousness. And he was finding sympathetic listeners hard to come by.
Benedict Elder, A Cosmopolitan Paradise.
