“I want to be looked at,” declared Alex. “I want to be an actor. An actor or a model.”
Grayling Scott, An Inventory of Characters.
Please read these words. And as you read them, think back to other words you have read. Think of all the words that you have ever read. And think of how strange—how otherworldly—it is to “read” words.
Anselm Bligh, A Collection of Miniatures.
The received wisdom today: A sentence is a form of rubbish.
Lawrence Rittle, The Fundamentals of Confusion.
I have adopted the quiet approach. The polite approach. But if I were to take on a different attitude—for example, laughing in their faces—how would I stop? How would I ever stop the laughing?
Rollin Mungo, Selected Rants of Mr. Barraclough.
[Then] Travis replied that he was not a humorless person. Not at all. But that he had simply grown tired of humor. Bone weary, in fact.
Hubert Ambrose, You Kant Because Hegel Won’t Let You.
Our “reason” is the mule, not the monarch.
Andreas Groot, Life of Ockeghem.
Alexa doesn’t live in one of the wonderful places. What should she do? (A) Engage in long fits of sobbing. (B) Bravely acknowledge her failure. (C) Stop paying attention. (D) Move immediately to a wonderful place.
Charles Jeffrey Yett, Writing in Miniature—Vol. Three.
“Life goes on,” said Larry, bravely trying to console. And in a very real sense he was right. Something does carry on. And, yes, let’s call it “life”.
Hilary Fewkes, The Banality Killings.
The most interesting question—perhaps the crucial question—about contemporary art is this: What happens to all that work? Only a miniscule percentage gets sold (to collectors, institutions, whoever). What about the rest? After giveaways to friends and family, what? The scows? The landfills?
Forbes Fallow, The Creatives.
To see the architecture within the detail—this is our very purpose.
Benedict Symes, A Meditation on Periodicity.
