a spear point glitters no road long wait in great heat in rude circles milk, cheese and blood stomach lived separately
Folds
Nevertheless not (quibbles from Leo Tolstoy)
all untrue timid ingratiating look feeling we call love not even on Sunday accursed music nevertheless not feel what I don’t really feel music acts like yawning only agitating pathetic and blissful only heard his voice this oblivion nobody, Sir
Quaver of (posits from Thomas B. Costain)
only impatience usual quaver of more than a hint of mockery ‘but mother is ill’ complaining wheels near the kitchen miller a nook of pastry cheese on a large scale fat lands quads and lanes an old Crusader grim purpose all Crusaders stink orange eyes fighting geography dust and fly-specks
Unlovely clock (plumes from E.M.Forster)
into drawing room nine windows but, you won’t agree such a selling down a young man out of the unknown a train from Kings Cross at 11 an unlovely clock ‘tell no one, Helen’ poor Helen
Kick a hat (threads from John Galsworthy)
fashion unbecoming talk them out filching sincerity pickled in these pages the name of sympathy June 15, 1886 even Aunt Ann strange and unsafe fair share of fresh air of sniff cheeks and hallows the origin of doubt significant trifle distinct a snob resolute face an Apple Charlotte came olives were removed if(…)
Beautiful and handsome at the same time (pits from Arnold Bennett)
on every side spread out undulating all, and much five drapers beautiful and handsome at the same time and rank
Eat their mistakes (booboo’s from William Faulkner)
a full head above two chairs snakes too in the summer cheaper chickens Kate says poor folks can’t the eyes I save mattress shucks eat their mistakes that extra $3 be selfish and stone hard until death and after no better than ants not even learning
A thousand diamonds (chips from Kate Williams)
his imperial saw her as his good luck charity only he finally, begrudgingly on December 2 a thousand diamonds
Eraser of the past (fillings from Michael Chabon)
when almost everyone wore a hat Sontag had fifty words not from anywhere some readers somewhere bits ever smaller for shipmates big bloody far-ranging in Jewish ethics not the red cape anymore re-trying knots the eraser of the past
Translated as (wickets from Franz Kafka)
the original German ‘dearest Max’ ‘yours, Franz Kafka’ translated as Brod was ‘why do’ tap Hungarian marginals something akin to appreciation indescribably sick of this her prior inattentiveness
