I dread insanity. I do fear “going” insane. I dread the grinding mechanical sameness of it—day after day, minute after minute.
Tristram Speaker, A Book of Postulates.
Of theories proposed by man? All but a very small portion have been shown to be false. Theory and falsehood walk hand in hand.
Gilbert Ravening, The Phantom of Mechanical Consistency.
Kenneth sealed himself away in his shambles of a room. And he did this for days. For weeks on end. Working, as he called it. Working on his long narrative poem, his masterpiece: “Drunken Eleanor.”
Jason Starling, ed., Adventures in Narrative Parsimony.
Spring again, and the old miseries return. Here come the insects, with whom we have nothing (we hope) in common. Warm and sunny. How perfectly awful. [23 April 1993]
Roger Boylan (ed.), Diary of Darius William Dunne.
“I cannot see Armageddon occurring just now. We are too trite. Yes. We are simply too insignificant. Too microscopic. What would be the point?”
Will Bestwyck, Letters from Mr. Palindrome.
JUDGE: Will the defendant state her plea?
DEFENDANT: Not very guilty, Your Honor.
Amanda Willcoxen, ed., The Literary and Philosophical Fragments of Gregory James Sallust.
Fashion today is not exhausted by hair-do, clothing, accessories. The main fashion statements are statements.
Jackson Currothers III, The View From the Cauldron.
“But this is all just wild theorizing,” said Tolliver.
“And so is that remark,” replied Mr. Ambrose. “Everything is theory, old boy. Mere theory.”
Jonathan Malfie, Thwarting the Enemy.
