roses are read
“The most preposterous thing,” grumbled Larry, “is when he quotes himself.”
Otto Klegg, The Ellipse of Uncertainty.
“The most preposterous thing,” grumbled Larry, “is when he quotes himself.”
Otto Klegg, The Ellipse of Uncertainty.
“They don’t like it,” said Randall. “They can feel their precious randomness being taken away from them.”
Dell Arbogast, The Null Hypothesis and Other Stories.
“Yes, I have noticed some stuff about the guy, Heather. A decided immersion in the theater of reasonableness, for one thing.”
Ralston Dowd, A Spot of Bother.
“No, Deirdre. It was insufficient irony on my part. I assure you.”
Will Southey, Government Cheese, the Novel.
Dearest Leon, just two words: ice pick.
Anselm Bligh, A Collection of Miniatures.
Lydia startled everyone in the room with her abrupt assertion: “Perhaps we are not being polite enough!”
Charles Jeffrey Yett, Writing in Miniature—Vol. Three.
“I want to file my nails while driving,” mused Cheryl. “I really do. I want to explore it. I want to experience it.”
Rhonda Carstairs, A Bad Case of the Whim-Whams and Other Stories.
“It hints at making sense, Brenda, but it never quite does.”
Nicholas Crisp, Unfit for Murder.
They had convinced themselves that they were monitoring reality. But all they could actually see was their own sophistication. Their own silliness.
Rollin Mungo, Selected Rants of Mr. Barraclough.
Karen, like some of her friends, was looking to make a future for herself.
Gladys Huizinga, Hard-Luck Dennis.