The story I am writing exists, written in absolutely perfect fashion, some place, in the air. All I must do is find it, and copy it.
Jules RenardAbout author
- Author's profession: Playwright, Writer
- Nationality: french
- Born: February 22, 1864
- Died: May 22, 1910
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The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'SAVE US!'...and I'll look down and whisper 'No.
Alan Moore
Well, at least he keeps himself fit," said the Archchancellor nastily. "Not like the rest of you fellows. I went into the Uncommon Room this morning, and it was full of chaps snoring!"That would be the senior masters, Master," said the Bursar. "I would say they are supremely fit, myself."Fit? The Dean looks like a man who's swallered a bed!"Ah, but Master," said the Bursar, smiling indulgently, " the word 'fit,' as I understand it, means 'appropriate to a purpose,' and I would say the body of...
Terry Prachett