For years, Travis had engaged in collecting the sheet music for old English and Scottish ballads. He divided the material into two categories: “love pleasant” and “love unfortunate.”
Jason Starling, ed., Adventures in Narrative Parsimony.
“What do these stories mean to you, Christine? Just more groaning? Are they mystery? Help me out here.”
Diana Moone, Living Well.
“Trust me, Linda, but magical things just do happen as the logos manifests itself.”
Tristan Holyoke, A Tree Full of Monkeys.
“You guys will never learn,” said Douglas Meade, the systems analyst. “I just know it.”
“I’m not paid to learn,” Simon shot back.
“Well I don’t know what they pay you for, but I do know that you will n-e-v-e-r learn.”
Jeremy Malking, The Anechoic Chamber: Stories.
Anthony kept claiming that he had managed to do something well. Very well, in fact. But that was a week ago, and I can’t remember what it was all about. Most likely, it had something to do with stringing words together.
Sebastian Sleeve, The Random Walk and Other Stories.
The distractions [mean] not having to worry about that emptiness where a soul should be.
Christopher Jayne, A Critique of Sincerity.
It was the Bolsheviks who started all that twaddle about Marx being the diligent, tireless “scholar.”
Bertrand Bartholomew, A Confusion of Tongues.
“What’s all this rubbish about forgiving yourself? Oliver wondered. “Who cooked that up?”
Herbert Fallowes, Inclined to Murder.
“I might have made a mistake,” confessed Lisa. “A very small one.”
Rhonda Carstairs, A Bad Case of the Whim-Whams and Other Stories.
Kenneth wants a nice full-length mirror before which he can stand and admire himself while he engages in forgiving others.
Dell Arbogast, The Null Hypothesis and Other Stories.
dennis scharnberg 