A convert’s but a fly, that turns about,
After his head’s pull’d off, to find it out.
A convert’s but a fly, that turns about,
After his head’s pull’d off, to find it out.
“Life is plotproof, muddled, desultory, irreducible to chains of cause and effect. It’s sweaty and rampantly sad. It’s a motion of moments. There’s no line of any kind other than the one that runs from birth to thwarting to death. As a reader, I drop out of a novel or even a short story as soon as I sense that the writer has a scheme and is overarranging things. I’ve had it with the masterminded.”
Garielle Lutz