On the sayings of Authors

It seemed appropriate, this morning, to revive a practice exercised on these pages from time to time. I have recently had the opportunity to read Selfish and Perverse : a novel, by Bob Smith, an activity I highly recommend. As I was reading I found myself committing one of the 99 really tacky sins, turning down the corner of a page where I found a sentence or a statement worthy of remembering.

I assumed that nothing would come of it, that I'd iron the little creases flat today and return the volume to the Public Library. But moved by a force beyond my ken or power of resistance, I have noted them below. I do not vouch for their insight. Their power to enlighten may exist only in situ. At the time they struck me enough to break one of my own rules and dog-ear a page.

"So, you're a friend of Joe's?" I asked in an exaggeratedly "normal" tone. Pretending to be normal was a fib, but it is a harsh fact that expressing too much individuality means you'll always be single. page 14-15

The fantasy of having sex with a straight man never appealed to me, because I was a writer and could complete the narrative and knew I'd probably end up cooking and cleaning for him. page 29

Losing your parents while they were alive almost seemed to be a more devastating loss than having them die. page 55

"Scandinavian furniture's sort of the logical outcome of twentieth century design," I said while stroking my hand across a desk chair's nubby turquoise fabric. "Mission furniture designed by agnostics." page 106

Roy lead me into the bedroom, where I observed that he did know how to choose a good bed. It was severely modern and looked as if it had been built for a monk who had renounced everything but his sense of style. page 107

"What?" he snarled. The first snarled "What" between a couple is always a milestone. It's the most succinct contraction in the English language, abbreviating the phrase, "What do you want now?" to a single horrible word. page 133

I often felt that I participated in Manhood by maintaining my membership at the lowest possible level; I remained affiliated with the organization by paying the minimal fee each year, but they gained nothing from my support because my dues barely covered the administrative costs of enrollment. page 193

Checking out another man's penis was similar to observing a celebrity in a restaurant; it was all right to look but to be caught staring was uncool. Dylan's starmeat didn't have any more charisma than Roy's or mine. But then again, most penises are like actors; when they are not performing, it's hard to believe they possess any talent whatsoever. page 290-291