Post
by stilltrucking » April 29th, 2009, 12:13 am
"Here at any rate is Ignatius Reilly, without progenitor in any literature I know of—slob extrodinary, a mad Oliver Hardy, a fat Don Quixote, a perverse Thomas Aquinas rolled into one—who is in violent revolt against the entire modern age, lying in his flannel nightshirt, in a back bedroom on Constantinoble Street in New Orleans, who between gigantic seizures of flatulence and eructations is filling dozens of Big Chief tablets with invective."
From Walker Percy's introduction to John Kenedy Toole's novel A Confederacy of Dunces
Woops I miscounted, this is the only the third or fourth sentence on the 8th page of the inroduction to the novel. The Novel itself does not begin until page 13. Maybe I should have chosen another book.
I just like that sentence above by Percy so much. John Kennedy Toole you wrote my life.
Here is the eight sentence:
Really.
___________________________________________________________
"His girlfreind, Myrna Minkoff of the Bronx, thinks he needs sex."
Last edited by
stilltrucking on April 29th, 2009, 3:16 am, edited 2 times in total.
)
