“Paul and David Ogg? Oh yes, I remember them. With those two, it was all mischief all the time. Anarchy might be a better term. Once, they managed to steal a dozen or more jean jackets from school lockers, and then found a unique way to set them on fire.”
Will Southey, Government Cheese, the Novel.
With the Baroque, there is no longer any tangling of the lyrics by means of the polyphonic methods of earlier years. And what a loss.
Adrian Childe, Greater Patterns in Bach.
“Nothing escapes it,” whispered Mr. Alton, appearing somewhat mystified. “The sense that we are being pillaged.”
Desmond Ogg, Waving Fields of Alfalfa.
There were no bird sounds. The day was dawning, but there were no bird sounds. Stoffels was the first in his group to notice it. No birds.
Victoria Salt, A Compendium of Opening Lines.
“It took all of fifteen-thousand dollars. Fifteen-thousand, Rosie! What a handsome sum that is. If sums can be handsome.”
Nathaniel Mist, A Light Pleasant Drowsiness.
“It’s good! It’s good! It’s good! Everything’s good. It is just good!” Danny had convinced himself that this bit of mocking sing-song was fit for all purposes.
Charles Jeffrey Yett, Writing in Miniature—Vol. Three.
Is reality still?
Godfrey Tooke, Collected Aphorisms.
Anne no longer liked the color red. And she was intent on telling all of her friends.
Jason Starling, ed., Adventures in Narrative Parsimony.
“Wanting to be admired is admirable. I believe that, Debbie. For the life of me, I just do believe it.”
Brooks Westerby, Squaresville.
Aye their oar.
Andrew Tertullian, Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.
dennis scharnberg 