His speech thrills with all the pleasures of the horror tale.
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The song about prepositions is the most beautiful one / It tells us where everything is
Texts are places where the past is passed on.
The overall structure really is like a skeleton.
A proliferation of activity that left much the same; the machine whirred on the same spot.
The brass indicator on the elevator ticked leftward, lower and lower.
Huck Finn may be a dream, Fiedler notes, but it is a nightmare.
Abandoned in a canyon of smuggled ancillary detail.
The electric car, the raised foundation, the meatless Mondays.
Reading the novel feels like spooning a live wire.
The end of style, when it ends, is a post on a dejected, impassable frontier. It is the beginning of something wider and colder, and it will have no name.
I work toward a wound-buttered world Death said and I agree with him.
if there is a trap, it is not that we are not living up to good enough theories, but that we think we need theories in order to live
Diagrams, in their largest capacity and expression, carry not just the limits of the negative but also possibility.