I can recall the odd line or two from memory. At least sometimes I can. But it seems there was something about “an endless bathing in selfhood.”
Will Bestwyck, Letters from Mr. Palindrome.
Every moment is coincidence. And there are no moments.
Gaddis Gann, Essays on the Pre-Socratics.
“He’s a newsreader, Emily! A mannikin.”
Will Davies, She Would If She Could.
“Welcome to the Lone Star State,” said Julie. “Hop in.”
Stephanie Biggers, Cat Farming in Nigeria.
By what faculty do we recognize that the truth of a proposition is self-evident?
Benedict Symes, A Meditation on Periodicity.
I never guess.
Godfrey Tooke, Collected Aphorisms.
“No, Davies. Your interpretation is okay. In fact, it is quite good. It just happens to be wrong, that’s all.”
Kiefer Sythe, The Detective Club.
“Nearly every expression in the English language is a pun!” shouted professor Edmunds, in a futile attempt to restore the group to order.
Anson Trimm, Carlos the Forgetful.
…[Sherlock Holmes] is all about noticing. The interpretations are strictly secondary. They are acquired.
Amanda Willcoxen, ed., The Literary and Philosophical Fragments of Gregory James Sallust.
Labor a Tory
Andrew Tertullian, Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.
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