“The knife went in, with my fingers around the handle.” As a confession, Nigel’s words were somewhat lacking.
Leslie M. Dow, The Murder in the Meadow.
Little boy lost. The world that was so familiar and so reassuring—just minutes ago—is now lost to him. And he can never regain it.
Delbert Arbogast, The Null Hypothesis, and Other Stories.
The two questions: (1) Why would anyone lie? (2) Why would anyone resist lying?
Logan Nygaard, A Treatise on Amusement.
Ideology: an elaborate form of insincerity.
W. Karl Bavinger, The Misanthrope’s Way With Words.
“What utter clarity you enjoy!” Harrison had found the perfect rejoinder to Ellen’s pomposity.
Darko Rivenbark, Snapshots.
I await that inevitable moment when feeling is allowed to have its way in the domain of physics. “It seems so unfair that fluids must behave in that way.” Or: “I don’t like it that momentum is always conserved.”
Avery Gilcoyne, Ten Paths to Erasure.
We are not as shallow as we would like to be.
Amanda Willcoxen, ed., The Philosophical and Literary Fragments of Gregory Sallust.
The lying doesn’t begin when we open our mouths.
Rula Tebb, ed., Remarks Attributed to the Late Great Hubert Ambrose.
The window sticker said “Fearless.” It reminded me of something that my brother had said. Something strange: Far from fearless, I am afflicted with the fear of nothing.
Grace Philippi, The Bliss City Murders.
“Andrew was engaged in the act of reasoning. I could tell by the expression on his face.” Brenda chattered on and on like that to the Constables, without actually giving them anything concrete.
Beatrice Landers, The Case of the Disappearing Detective.
