Bokelskere.no

She, too, was quick with one-liners, honed in a lifetime of zestful vengeful repartee and quarrel. [...] The madness shining like liquid flame in those eyes.

Where he can work, there is a writer's home.

The girl's naivete was both charming and annoying. Yet he knew she was sincere. One must honor such sincerity.

This is why, he thought, so-called artists become surly and reclusive; not out of a sense of their superiority, but of their failure to be sufficiently superior.

Every man ought to make his life acceptable to others, but his death to himself alone.

Out of revulsion at the contemporary world, he had increasingly turned to the ancient world, drenched in its own species of blood, yet remote, sanctified by distance and the eloquence of its language.

No doubt there was something primitive and appealing about a cane to which both men and women responded unconsciously. A talismanic scepter, a sword. A sleekly stylized phallus.

I worked in a strip club in Pittsburgh, needed the money but I hated the work. Guys coming on to you all the time. Like you're raw meat and they're flies, or worse.

If you know spiderwebs, you know that they are spun with infinite precision and patience; according to the spider's genus, they conform to a design; yet individual spiders spin variants of this design. If broken in one area, the web is constructed to hold in other areas. Nine-tenths of a cobweb might be broken yet the one-tenth would remain, holding fast, distinctive.

... he was a «posthumous» being, and moved like a ghost among living human beings, a wraith out of Hades.