“Let’s be self-absorbed, and call it personal growth. Come what may!” Kimberly now saw it so clearly: This was the kind of statement, the kind of attitude, that was necessary decades ago so that we might come to reside in the wonderful moment of now.
Rhonda Carstairs, A Bad Case of the Whim-Whams and Other Stories.
“When they came up with the word wonderful, centuries ago,” thought Darryl, “what they probably had in mind was something like the smart phone.”
Jonathan Steed, Down Under.
“If humans never get anything quite right, then I am not getting this altogether right either. And what if logic is also not quite right?”
Rubina Malcolm, The Black Box.
I despise the theatre. And yet I engage in theatre almost continuously. And it is theatre of the worst kind.
Titus Musgrave, The Mystery of Sleep.
Are we entitled to our own nausea? Or are we free to be nauseated only by this or by that ?
Chalmers van Nest, The Trivial Quadrivium.
Logic is not compelling. Unless we mean to say that it compels us to hide from it.
Rollin Mungo, Selected Rants of Mr. Barraclough.
“I don’t always know what I mean. Not exactly. In some cases, I find out later.”
Benedict Elder, A Cosmopolitan Paradise.
The Seen and the Unseen. Or is it: the Presented and the Hidden? The Displayed and the Concealed? But isn’t what we cannot see always so much more appealing? Isn’t that what excites us? The long skirt of the English Rose.
Hill Boothby, Essays on Disappointment Management.
“Killing her was one of the most difficult things I have ever done.” Now that’s the way to open a crime novel! But this is not a crime novel, now is it? Well, no. Not exactly. Oh what the Hell, we’ll call it a crime novel….
Anselm Bligh, A Collection of Miniatures.
“Damn it, Peters! Just because something is systematic, it doesn’t mean that you have a clear idea about what you are doing. Or why you are doing it.”
Allison Cowling, Night of the Detective.
