“Okay, next, we are going to create a really nice bucket, using only coconut shells and gluestick,” said the host of the show. Loudly, and with a big smile.
Will Southey, Government Cheese, the Novel.
“Max doesn’t even care to be right, Vanessa. He wants to be wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.”
Chadwick Graves, Maoist Struggle Session and Other Stories.
“It’s not a question of how she lives,” explained Paul. “It is a question of what it all presupposes.”
Michael Margate, The Shadow Path.
Andrea was submitting that novel to her very self. Oh, what a lucky book!
Hugh Chumley, Making Martha Happy.
“Modernity is a disease, Colin. The Modernists all knew that. But they saw it as heroic to have that disease, whereas I see it as merely stupid.”
Will Bestwyck, Letters From Mr. Palindrome.
“I shall always remember that thrill,” exclaimed Deborah. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
Rubina Malcolm, The Black Box.
“And what did he mean by that?”
“He meant nothing, man. Nothing! He was just trying to sound poetic. That’s all. Like Bob Dylan!”
Everson Dwight, Theory of Machines, a Novel.
It was Defoe’s solemn obligation not to bore the reader.
Anthony Scowling, The Beat Paradigm.
“The problem, Terence, is that there are different ways of not making sense.”
Jack Dawes, Circus Interruptus.
Saying is believing.
Godfrey Tooke, Collected Aphorisms.
dennis scharnberg 