An hundred weeping eyes
shall prove lacking
For thy substantial neede.
Andrew Coventree, The Five Golden Dayes. (1590)
Priscilla Fanning, Fragments From the Elizabethan Stage.
…drive them, sir, as
So many wilde beastes.
Samuel Wyllkins, The Sexton’s Dreame. (1622)
Priscilla Fanning, Fragments From the Jacobean Stage.
Summerly’s ascent to mediocrity hinged on the efforts of several benefactors. Not the least of these was a Mr. William Davy.
Nicholas Crisp, A Suitcase Fell on Her Head.
What was it about Theodor [Adorno] that enabled him always to have the worst ideas in the world?
Octavius Kinder, A Sustainable Unhappiness.
“Your story is a lie, Tom! Actually, it is ridiculous.“
“All stories are ridiculous, Brenda.”
Herbert Fallowes, Inclined to Murder.
“I will write a novel,” declared Jason, “but only if it can be a nineteenth century novel. None of that modern business, full of nastiness and zig-zags.”
Nicholas Crisp, A Suitcase Fell on Her Head.
With exemplary adroitness, Mr. Desmond Davies stepped over and past the corpse of his own integrity.
Victoria Salt, A Compendium of Opening Lines.
Jack opened the window and paused. Then, he simply pointed in. No words were necessary.
Gwenda Reid, Murder in Retrospect.
“Yes, I used to have a bit of a reputation,” admitted Dean. “But I was able to get rid of that.”
Dell Arbogast, The Null Hypothesis and Other Stories.
“Oh, it’s not that he thinks only of himself, Janet. Not necessarily. It’s that he just does proceed. And proceed in a thieving way.”
Everson Dwight, Being and Murder.
dennis scharnberg 