Quotation by Alexander Theroux

He took up his pen, which seemed to parch like a martyr in his hand. He began to write, nevertheless, addressing the nine-and-ninety lies of the moment he hoped with for a night of saloperie at the side of the twisted strumpet, Fiction, who lasciviously rolled her eyes at him, hiked up her skirt, and beckoned him on.
Alexander Theroux (b. 1940), U.S. novelist, poet, essayist. Darconville's Cat, ch. 29, New York, Doubleday (1981).
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