“I have knelt on one knee, and I can’t get up,” Nancy whimpered into the emergency device.
P. F. Pillby, A Fleet of Scows.
For Jacoby, hip hop was a cultural elixir, however improbable that might seem to be. “It rescues us all,” he said, “from a grim vortex of meaninglessness.”
Charles Jeffrey Yett, Writing in Miniature—Vol. Three.
Apology: a guilty plea.
Nathaniel Bumppo, The Final Word.
Happiness is a nonsensical notion.
Godfrey Tooke, Collected Aphorisms.
“A poet roused is a terrible thing, sir. You take it from me!”
Trenton Childe, Rob Riddle and His Friends. (1792)
Is there anything worse than psychology?
Titus Musgrave, Carthago Delenda Est.
There is no arithmetic of resentment.
Godfrey Tooke, Collected Aphorisms.
“I tend to think in terms of three, Sam. Groups of three. And I do believe that there was a third great Homeric poem, in addition to the Odyssey and the Iliad. Of course, it is lost to us. Long gone. But in my vision of the thing, it must have centered upon the later life of a minor character who appears in some versions of the Iliad. His name works out to be something like our familiar “Molloy.” And the poem is likely to have narrated—relentlessly— the everyday minutiae in the life of this whining, complaining, small-minded parasite. And, Sam, do bear in mind that there be might certain advantages inherent in the loss of this text. You know what they say about gift horses.”
Will Bestwyck, Letters From Mr. Palindrome.
“Banquo was a hothead, Charlie. And he had it coming. Have you ever considered that?”
Burdyce Goode, Wonderful With Dogs.
“Artists are the worst of all, Lucy. They are the most conformist people I have ever known. The are an advertisement for the culture.”
Wilson Phelps, Reaching Out.
dennis scharnberg 