—You must realize that Roderick is bitterly contemptuous of architects. All architects.
—A bit of an easy target, aren’t they?
—Well, yes. Of course.
Philip Cavendish, Tilly’s Treasury of Colloquial Bits.
What Marx did not say: “Up till now, people have only talked about the weather; the point, however, is to do something about it.”
Sidney Simms, Horse Eats Hat.
A new equation: poets being dishonest equals poetry.
Mills Verbruggen, The Isle of Dogs.
Is anything closer to nothing than contemporary art? Is there merit in that?
Alex Twist, A Primer of Posturing.
The boundary separating X and Y cannot be defined with rigorous clarity. Therefore, X and Y do not exist.
Nigel Swoone, Old Theories of Time.
Really, Ted, isn’t “wonderful” the only word that anyone would ever need?
Rhonda Carstairs, A Bad Case of the Whim-Whams and Other Stories.
“Multiple acentric spheres that expand to become concentric,” said Phillips in one of his many attempts to characterize polyphony.
Will Hewes, Little To Do.
If we had any integrity at all, we would stop writing fiction—whether stories, novels, plays. We would move on.
Hunter Hogarth, Raised by Wolves.
“I realize that it seems so unlikely, Elizabeth, but try to imagine that there might be things that are actually confusing or incomprehensible, but real.”
Thaddeus Crewes, Crowded Evil World.
awl is lost
Andrew Tertullian, Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.
dennis scharnberg 