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unearths some literary gems.
From "A Bishop in the Ballet," by Caryl Brahms:
“And you do not tell a living soul?”
“Not a syllable to a sturgeon.”
***
From "A Brabble in the Ballet," by Caryl Brahms:
Stroganov erupted into the rehearsal hall with his prospective backer in tow, like the tail of a well-upholstered comet.
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unearths some literary gems.
***“Madame,” said Citrolo in tones of a refrigerator salesman referring to a rival make...[I like the implication that a salesperson whose product is frigid is especially icy when disparaging something.]***Prince Alexis Artishok’s monocle was clearly disclaiming all responsibility for the table’s flower scheme.***"Without me Vladimir is an empty 'O.'"[Google Books, at a glance, didn't give me any evidence that the "empty 'O'" has any currency beyond this book. (N.B. The O in that sentence appears typographically identical to other capital O's in the book, so I'm assuming it is indeed an O and not a zero.) Does One-Letter Words: A Dictionary have anything to say about the "empty 'O'"?]***“Schwolotz [“swine”],” screamed Dyrakova....“Schwolotz yourself,” retorted Buttonhooke. He did not know what it meant but it sounded good.***
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unearths some literary gems.
After a time he suggested that we make up a list of the things we had been warned of.... It required about two hours to get everything down, beginning with Aches, Actresses, Adenoids, Alcoholism, Amnesia, Arson, etc., and running on, through the alphabet to Zero weather, Zolaism, and Zymosis.
After looking over the category, my companion said:
"The trouble with this list is that it doesn't present things in the order in which they may reasonably be expected to occur. For instance, you might get zymosis, or attempt to write like Zola, at almost any time, yet those two dangers are down at the bottom of the list."
[...]
This time we made two lists: one of general dangers—things which might overtake us almost anywhere...another arranged geographically, according to our route. Thus, for example, instead of listing Elbert Hubbard under the letter "H," we elevated him to first place, because he lives near Buffalo, which was our first stop.
I didn't want to put down Hubbard's name at all—I thought it would please him too much if he ever heard about it. I said to my companion:
"We have already passed Buffalo. And, besides, there are some things which the instinct of self-preservation causes one to recollect without the aid of any list."
"I know it," he returned, stubbornly, "but, in the interest of science, I wish this list to be complete."
So we put down everything: Elbert Hubbard, Herbert Kaufman, Eva Tanguay, Upton Sinclair, and all.
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unearths some literary gems.
From Glass on the Stairs, by Margaret Scherf:
***"Isn't it funny how many attractive vices end in y?"***"He'll begin by denying that he ever heard of her, but if you encourage him he'll give you a complete synopsis, from Cream of Wheat to gin and tonic."***"He does everything from Hamlet to Red Skelton's mother."***"I solemnly swear." She put her hand on the Manhattan phone book.***[The protagonists have to move their art/decor studio on short notice, so all their friends drop by to "help," i.e., do nothing useful, take up time, and get in the way.]In addition to the advice they came in to give, they seemed to think the crisis called for comfort in the form of stories, mostly pornographic, all lengthy.***"She's involved in the sudden end of Mrs. Rhodes, or I'm a smoked codfish.""I shouldn't be surprised if you were."***The dust measurers went away, with the look of men about to write articles.***
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