Wilson Witry

“– C’est ce receveur, expliqua le conducteur.
– Ah ! dit Amadis.
– Il aime pas les voyageurs. Alors, il s’arrange pour
qu’on parte sans voyageur et il ne sonne jamais. Je le sais
bien.
– C’est vrai, dit Amadis.
– Il est fou, vous comprenez, dit le machiniste.
– C’est ça… murmura Amadis. Je le trouvais bizarre.
– Ils sont tous fous à la Compagnie.
– Ça ne m’étonne pas !
– Moi, dit le conducteur, je les possède. Au pays des
aveugles, les borgnes sont rois. Vous avez un couteau ?
– J’ai un canif.
– Prêtez.”
― Boris Vian, Autumn in Peking

“this morning I go to pay for breakfast and there, right there at the Kroger check-out, staring me in the face is a national magazine with your picture on the cover. Counterfeit Countess, it said. In great big, bold type: Counterfeit! Countess! Counterfeit,” he reiterated, “a word interchangeable with forgery and often associated with arrest.” Ah, yes. Patrice had called from Austin and warned me she had sold the story to Woman’s World magazine. “Last sentence?” Mittwede asked. “You know what it is?’ “No, I’ve not seen it.” “Tanya says, ‘I’m going to grow up and be a con artist.’” It had struck me as pretty funny when I said it, but Mittwede had better delivery. I think it was the hysteria. He was saying, “I remember that story. That was like a year and a half ago. You didn’t tell me you were that girl, the Dallas Countess. I already knew the story but I read it again, and I know all the cops have read it again, too. And now your picture is with Passport Services and at the check-out counter. You think federal agents don’t buy groceries? You’re fucking crazy. We’re going to be arrested.” “You maybe need to take a Valium.” “I threw them all in the fire!”   ~~~~~~”
― Tanya Thompson, Assuming Names: a con artist's masquerade

“I want to convey a mood, and what you are reading is a constituent of how you feel. In biographies they should always tell us that, routinely, in the margin: what they were reading. What”
― Martin Amis, Experience

“Football divisions were a stupid and irrelevant nonsense, acting against the interest of working-class unity, ensuring that the bourgeoisie's hegemony went unchallenged.”
― Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting