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.
Once we become preoccupied with the self, there is no world.
Trevor Albertus, Malevolent Asymmetry.
“Insanity is just like gravity,” insisted Mr. Grimshawe. “It is the natural structure. One has to struggle to be sane.”
Thaddeus Crewes, Crowded Evil World.
That [polyphonic] passage is overwhelming. Just crushing. It seems to say, “Come home.”
Linda Talbotting, The Long List of Complaint.
What the radical seems to abhor most is common sense. He just can’t stand it.
Clem Tartessos, Designing the Past.
The works of art have no intrinsic value. They are simply necessary to establish the status of “artist.” That is the important matter. To be the artist, to be within the discourse.
Hill Boothby, The Dazzling Realm of Almost.
land lowered
house holed
proper tea
Andrew Tertullian, Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.
And what is the meaning of the Statue of Liberty? Kitsch, and nothing but kitsch.
Clem Tartessos, Designing the Past.
