A batch of the best highlights from what Carla's read, .
It was a pain-shaped bloodstain.
The Tooth Fairy
Graham Joyce
“back to the ardors and arbors! Eros qui prend son essor! Arts that our marblery harbors: Eros, the rose and the sore.” I am ill at these numbers, but e’en rhymery is easier “than confuting the past in mute prose.”
Ada, or Ardor
Vladimir Nabokov
All too easily does self-criticism poison one's naïveté, that priceless possession, or rather gift, which no creative man can be without.