Tantalusian Thermions

Tantalusia

"Chortle me upside, you buckwheat scallion," Harry says, and phantasmagoric energy spasms forth from his wands tip. Up!

Tickle, tickle.

Cormac McCarthy says he doesn't understand Marcel Proust, and the gyre spins out.

C.S. Lewis came to not like Wordsworth very much, and his words on the beach got washed away and weren't words anymore, maybe.

A writer for the Atlantic says he'd like to go back to reading Mandarin writing. Well...

Sarah Kane's 4.48 Psychosis is an adaptation of Sorrows of a Young Werther and Arnold Artaud, the man, not his writing.

These, the facts Hermione has had to memorize for her Literary History class at Hogwarts. Well, she didn't have to memorize them, but she has, she has been compelled to by the little Apollo Creed in her head. He keeps punching her amygdala.

It's ain't easy bein' 'mione.

All these wiz kids got a head start. They have their hands on the wands, all. Hermione hasn't.

Delta V is the maximum potential change in a rocket's velocity and is dependent on the ratio of fuel to weight and the specific impulse.

Hermione thinks in the third person to disassociate from her extraordinary anxiety. She has always considered herself a regional champion in that camp. That camp refers to both disassociation and anxiety. She hasn't thought in the first person.

The introduction of the Barnes and Noble Classics edition of Howards End by E.M. Forster claims that the name Wilcox is an intentional portmanteau of will and cocks.

Some employees of NME feel that Eminem too often favored form over content.

Foucault is correctly pronounced "Fuck off."

There is an inner-inner circle of people who correct people who correct people who say Giacometti incorrectly.

Chapter 6 has 3507 words.

If you lick the undercarriage of a Boeing 737 it will taste less sour than most other metal you've licked.

Magic isn't quite real.

Befriending professors was a bad idea.

Fucking them was a worse one.

Creed keeps punching.

Anybody can be happy rolling stones. That's not the problem. We're not Sisyphus. We're Tantalus.

The same Atlantic writer thinks that most modern American fiction is just lazy poetry.

"Potency potato," says Harry and I turn into a ferret: no lungs. You'll still think this is wizardry won't you?