“No, Sergeant. Kevin was a relentless vegan. He would seek forgiveness from the asparagus on his plate!”
Hilary Fewkes, The Banality Killings.
“Deceivers want to be found out,” Trumbull insisted. “It’s an established principle of criminal investigation.”
Clive Ennis, The Case of the Broken Handle.
“That’s how I look at things, Patricia. In terms of perfection.”
Tristan Holyoke, A Tree Full of Monkeys.
The awful screeching of the
seabirds
Stirreth him not, sir.
On this morrow, never.
William Southey, A Captain’s Fancie. (1612)
Priscilla Fanning, Fragments From the Jacobean Stage.
Her head movements while speaking provided evidence that Brenda did care.
Leighton Johns, My Uncle Toby.
It is too easy for us to forget what a miserable thing advertising is.
Roger Sensabaugh, A Short History of Boredom.
The internet means the ruination of all. Not just of this and that.
Roger Hedgecook, Stolen and Sold for Parts.
“Doors are one of the main reasons we have buildings,” said Margaret softly.
Benedict Elder, A Cosmopolitan Paradise.
“Contemporary novels are dead on arrival.” Colin’s statement just hung in the air. It found no takers.
Charles Jeffrey Yett, Writing in Miniature—Vol. Three.
“Some people actually wish for a hellish outcome,” said Coventry. “It is insanity to give them a voice.”
Giles Coxe-Coburn, Tooth and Claw.
