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.
“Here, try some of this,” offered Mr. Howells. “I call it my elixir. I’m afraid it contains almost everything. Everything except tea.”
Quentin Drabb, Ebenezer’s Untold Tales.
Rationality can be applied. But it cannot stand apart for inspection. It cannot be delineated.
Stefan Jannings, Prolegomena to Any Future.
Bertie said that he wished to be punished for his mistakes. For each of them. And Molly wasn’t the only person of his acquaintance who found this attitude to be a bit odd.
Trent Bendix, Patricia Knows Best.
When mental illness presents itself, we search (in our silly way) for selfhood.
Hester Stills, The New Academy.
“Their attitude has nothing to do with what you actually think or what you have actually done. Absolutely nothing. They are simply nasty people. Through and through.”
Will Bestwyck, Letters From Mr. Palindrome.
