“I just glide along on the culture, too,” said Mr. Lockgarden, “like everyone else. The difference is that I see it. I do see it so clearly.”
Clifford Apogee, Draining the Pools, and Other Tales.
“I want to learn to pout better. Or more thoroughly, perhaps.” Frederick often looked for ways to improve himself. To advance.
Jason Starling, ed., Adventures in Narrative Parsimony.
Modernism, of course, is rubbish. And what about that nineteenth century neoclassicism against which the moderns rebelled—at least in part because they were unable to produce it? Remember that stuff? It too was rubbish. A particularly refined (and superfluous) form of figuration, created by talented technicians. At a certain point, there were two distinct pathways, both of which were inadequate: the art of the academies and art as “expression”.
Harold Hassouna, Myths of Development.
“Gee, I don’t feel any different now that I know. Does that mean that knowing doesn’t matter?” Sometimes, it seemed to Kellen that he didn’t have a leg to stand on.
Charles Jeffrey Yett, Writing in Miniature—Vol. Three.
Our “rights” are secured by what? By documents. By a few sentences.
Christopher Valerian, In Search of Boundary Conditions.
Are we more than the sum of our holes? Or are we an arithmetic of nothingness?
Charles Pfanning, Mild Interrogations.
We say that we don’t know what the future will be. When we say that, and mean it, we also mean this: We don’t know what our utterances will be.
Thomas Bedlam, Jackdaws and the Problem of Speech.
There are all sorts of containers, sir. And a book is indeed a box. So, a quotation is like saying: “I have plucked this out of that container.”
Maxwell Havers, The Complete Undoing of Lord Tuckahoe.
Here is what alienation is. It’s as though the entire writing project evaporates if I have to commit to Writing.
Jerry Westerby, Dark-Gray Magic.
dennis scharnberg 