“What’s your code name, Jack?”
“My what?”
“Your code name. Your secret name. What is it?”
Harold Nickleby, Captain Hugo and the Case of the Mystic Rhymes.
“Harvene was an unusual girl, you know.”
“How do you mean unusual?”
“Well, thoughts mostly. But also clothing. Her garments.”
Lana Dowling, The Mystery of the Dull Parcels.
“I thought seed-cake was for weddings,” quipped Tom. “Or for funerals. Or both.”
Leighton Johns, My Uncle Toby.
Lost in mountains
praying for rain
crunch of cheeto
howl of wolf.
Ann Sensabaugh, The Faulty Haiku.
“The one who did have good English was the sort of fellow who didn’t talk much. Just my luck.”
Lawton Trumbull, The Three Days.
“I might occasionally do a little juggling. Is that okay?”
Georgina Hickes, An Ornamental Murder.
Atoms are the basis for all of our stories.
Godfrey Daniel, Inspecting the Time Domain.
“I have become aware of the fact that I think,” whispered Adrian. “Therefore, I am.”
Ford Blasey, The Perplexity of the Two Green Doors.
“Incoherence is the goal, sir.”
Giles Coxe-Coburn, Belief in Insects.
“Did you try to say mew or meow to it? Sometimes that works.”
Otto Klegg, The Ellipse of Uncertainty.
dennis scharnberg 