Sublime
An inspiration engine for ideas
Sat there, and unwrapped the hot buttock of the kebab from its outerwear of off-white paper, and then its underwear of grey-greasy paper.
Will Self • The Unbearable Lightness of Being a Prawn Cracker
She gave me a china bowl filled with warm porridge from the stovetop, with a lump of homemade blackberry jam, my favorite, in the middle of the porridge, then she poured cream on it. I swished it around with my spoon before I ate it, swirling it into a purple mess, and was as happy as I have ever been about anything. It tasted perfect.
Neil Gaiman • The Ocean at the End of the Lane
Pithivier
Raymond Blanc • Simply Raymond
Pots of money too.” “What makes you think that, Dudley?” asked the marzipan voice of Mr. Appleby. Conversation about Mrs. Pagani was now general. “Couldn’t behave as she does if she hadn’t, Mr. Appleby,” replied Dudley.
Robert Aickman • Dark Entries
Puddings came with lumpy custard and were meant to be a challenge because being British meant never fully surrendering to pleasure.
Miranda France • The Writing School
This lady did the honors of the teacup and cookie crock each afternoon, with or without company. She would spread a large stool with a square of lace, deck it with a low bowl of artificial flowers, a teacup or teacups, the pot of tea, sugar, cream and lemon, and the odd-shaped crock of sweet crackers.
Margo Jefferson • Maud Martha
Face. Sponge Bob Shit Pants. “No?” said Platt casually, misreading