LOGIC IN A ROSE GARDEN

And if she wore cocktail dresses when she labored in her rose garden, they were cocktail dresses that she no longer intended to wear to cocktail parties. Even in her rose garden, she did not want to be seen undressed. If the dressed got too dirty from gardening, she threw them out. When my mother suggested to her that she might have them cleaned, my grandmother said, 'What? And have those people at the cleaners wonder what I was doing in a dress to make it that dirty?'
From my grandmother I learned that logic is relative.
(John Irving | A Prayer For Owen meany)

A PLACE TO HIDE

In our Federal house on Front Street, there was also a secret passageway - a bookcase that was actually a door that led down a staircase to a dirt-floor basement [...] That was just what it was: a bookcase that was a door that led to a place where absolutely nothing happened - it was simply a place to hide. From what? I used to wonder. That this secret passageway to nowhere existed in our house did not comfort me; rather, it provoked me to imagine what there might be that was sufficiently threatening to hide from - and it is never comforting to imagine that.
(John Irving | A Prayer For Owen Meany)

NIGHT-NOISES OF THE METRO NIGHT

Il fruscio crepuscolare standard.
(David Foster Wallace | Infinite Jest)