Frederick Seiden

“Christ, I feel like a naughty schoolboy again,” said Alec as they walked into King’s Bench Walk. “We have just had a dressing-down by the headmaster. Strider could easily be a man handy with a cane.”
“That man Strider is a crook,” said Bing-Wallace. “His utterances are like the product of a performance of Joseph Pujol … Le Pétomane!”
“Who is Joseph Pujol?”
“He is a well-known French flatulist performer.”
“What?” Alec stopped dead,
“A fartist, dear boy, a performer of farts.” Bing-Wallace began to giggle, as did Alec.”
― Hugo Woolley, The Wasp Trap

“The sunset bled into the edges of the village. Smoke curled out of the cottage chimney like a crooked finger.”
― Sara Pascoe, Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For

“There is nothing that is not God. It follows then, that it is not his Mind that moves all things, for we are not separate, but ‘our’ Mind.”
― Ki Longfellow, The Secret Magdalene

“Marco’s heart swelled with pride at his culture. Maybe it was the coquito, but his eyes teared at this beautiful Reyes celebration, heavenly food, lush green mountains, clean air, and his family’s delighted faces. He felt sorry for the stiff people at the Casino de Puerto Rico, pretending to be jíbaros and eating food half as delicious as this. Actually, no. He didn’t feel sorry for them. It was precisely what they deserved.”
― Margarita Barresi, A Delicate Marriage