A incapacidade de contactar com a realidade é a característica de toda a «arte» americana. Qualquer semelhança entre a arte americana e a natureza americana é pura coincidência, mas isso acontece apen...
The nation as a whole has no contact with reality. That is only one of the reasons why I have always been forced to exist on the fringes of its society, consigned to the Limbo reserved for those who d...
When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occassional cheese dip. John Kennedy Toole, A Confederacy of Dunces
Will you please stop screeching like a fishmonger and run along? Don't you have a bottle of muscatel baking in the oven?
What you think about somebody wants peace, Claude? That sounds like a communiss to me. Mrs. Reilly’s worst fears were realized.
This...is a new crutch to help you make excuses for your meaningless, impotent existence.
The only problem that those people have anyway is that they don’t like new cars and hair sprays. That’s why they are put away. They make the other members of the society fearful. Every asylum in this...
Speeding along in that bus was like hurtling into the abyss. By the time we had left the swamps and reached those rolling hills near Baton Rouge, I was getting afraid that some rural rednecks might to...
She offered Patrolman Mancuso a torn and oily cake box that looked as if it had been subjected to unusual abuse during someone's attempt to take all of the doughnuts at once. At the bottom of the box...
Psycho? The woman's senile. We had to stop at about thirty gas stations on the way over here. Finally I got tired of getting out of the car and showing her which was the Men's and which was the Women'...
My mother is currently associating with some undesirables who are attempting to transform her into an athlete of sorts, deprave specimens of mankind who regularly bowl their way to oblivion.
Mrs. Reilly called in that accent that occurs south of New Jersey only in New Orleans, that Hoboken near the Gulf of Mexico.
Mother, when was this coffee dripped? Ignatius demanded, flapping into the kitchen again.Just about a hour ago. Why?It certainly tastes brackish.
Magnolias don't look like that, Ignatius said, thrusting his cutlass at the offending pastel magnolia. You ladies need a course in botany. And perhaps geometry, too.You don't have to look at our work,...
In other words, you want to become totally bourgeois. You people have all been brainwashed. I imagine that you'd like to become a success or something equally vile.
I will probably spend years at the Eye, Ear, Nose, and Throat Hospital having this attended to, Ignatius said, fingering his ear. You may expect to receive some rather staggering medical bills each mo...
I refuse to look up. Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man's fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery.
Had you ‘artists’ had a part in the decoration of the Sistine Chapel, it would have ended up looking like a particularly vulgar train terminal, Ignatius snorted.
Fortuna, that vicious slut.
You know, manacles and chains have functions in modern life which their fevered inventors must never have considered in an earlier and simpler age. If I were a suburban developer, I would attach at le...