…summoning an alternative reality through narrative. Through words alone. It is the casting of spells. Like Marx and Freud.
Clifford O. Mounce, A Portable Darkness.
When Ruth Mix screams in The Black Coin, brother you will know it! Nevertheless, there is something tidy—something businesslike—about her screams.
Logan Nygaard, A Treatise on Amusement.
“Tell it all, Jim,” said Lieutenant Walser. “I want you to tell me everything.”
Allison Cowling, Night of the Detective.
“The walls are moving,” said Brenda, with a tone of concern in her voice. “The walls are moving!”
Bertram Worcester, The Smiling Killer.
“What if actors could smile, Jennifer? Right there in front of the camera. Wouldn’t that be good?”
Ralston Dowd, A Spot of Bother.
“Where are the smirks of yesteryear?”
Patrick Malmsy, Collected Poems.
What is a world?
Hampton Fancher, Variations on the Red Barn Con.
TV: a means of casting spells.
Nathaniel Bumppo, The Final Word.
“I guarantee nothing,” said Mr. Hammer, as though he had spoken the line many times before.
Myrtle Mawby, Cabinets and Drawers, a Novel.
Bimboo: particularly stupid bamboo.
Clive Morrow, A Crustacean’s Dictionary.
dennis scharnberg 