tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051744883907551402.post7713294382553401977..comments2024-03-27T19:11:37.620-04:00Comments on You Don't Say: Why not the worst?John McIntyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03559687583130468871noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051744883907551402.post-75113481780098101512010-03-18T22:13:48.128-04:002010-03-18T22:13:48.128-04:00You beat me to it, Prof. McIntyre! I was going to...You beat me to it, Prof. McIntyre! I was going to submit "The Weeper" after I'd read the rules, but then I scrolled down and there it was. As the professor who taught it to me said, it's one of the howlers of literature.miriamnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051744883907551402.post-46778585139844432102010-03-07T20:04:57.361-05:002010-03-07T20:04:57.361-05:00From John Updike's "Gertrude and Claudius...From John Updike's "Gertrude and Claudius": "She sensed her body floating naked away from her thinking head -- her breasts blown roses pink and white, her sex swollen and tender beneath its matted bush, her bare feet forming a distant audience of nail-faced toes."Charles Matthewshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10975368525486961216noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051744883907551402.post-63303810046106856692010-03-07T19:54:16.174-05:002010-03-07T19:54:16.174-05:00I'm not sure if you can fix this, but recently...I'm not sure if you can fix this, but recently your posts have been peppered with '3/4ths' symbols. Some kind of error with the blogspot software, I'm sure.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051744883907551402.post-74151641426956893432010-03-07T19:05:07.625-05:002010-03-07T19:05:07.625-05:00Ludlum from the Bourne Ultimatum
Footsteps. Slow,...Ludlum from the Bourne Ultimatum<br /><br />Footsteps. Slow, hesitant, and through the shadows of the deserted path walked two short men— old men. At first glance they, indeed, appeared to be part of the swelling army of indigent homeless, yet there was something different about them, a sense of purpose, perhaps. They stopped nearly twenty feet away from the bench, their faces in darkness. The old man on the left spoke, his voice thin, his accent strange. “It is an odd hour and an unusual place for two such well-dressed gentlemen to meet. Is it fair for you to occupy a place of rest that should be for others not so well off as you?”<br />“There are a number of unoccupied benches,” said Alex pleasantly. “Is this one reserved?”<br />“There are no reserved seats here,” replied the second old man, his English clear but not native to him. “But why are you here?”<br />“What’s it to you?” asked Conklin. “This is a private meeting and none of your business.” “Business at this hour and in this place?” The first aged intruder spoke while looking around. “I repeat,” repeated Alex. “It’s none of your business and I really think you should leave us<br />alone.”Normhttp://mostlyanecdotal.orgnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051744883907551402.post-9118208429249599972010-03-07T08:26:49.995-05:002010-03-07T08:26:49.995-05:00From Middlemarch, by George Eliot (or pick any sen...From Middlemarch, by George Eliot (or pick any sentence at random from her writing):<br />"These characteristics, fixed and unchangeable as bone in Mr. Casaubon, might have remained longer unfelt by Dorothea if she had been encouraged to pour forth her girlish and womanly feeling--if he would have held her hands between his and listened with the delight of tenderness and understanding to all the little histories which made up her experience, and would have given her the same sort of intimacy in return, so that the past life of each could be included in their mutual knowledge and affection--or if she could have fed her affection with those childlike caresses which are the bent of every sweet woman, who has begun by showering kisses on the hard pate of her bald doll, creating a happy soul within the woodenness from the wealth of her own love."Georgia Girlnoreply@blogger.com