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Date: 1992

" He was dangerously obsessed, dangerously obsessed. And his thoughts, like a bobsleigh walled with ice, would not change their course until he had crashed or achieved his end."

— Edward St. Aubyn (b. 1960)

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Date: 1994

"Because you are traveling right along with him as he forms his sentences, making each word he says appear as a little clump of letters on your screen, you begin to feel as if you are doing the thinking yourself; you occupy some dark space in the interior of his mind as he goes about his job."

— Baker, Nicholson (b. 1957)

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Date: 1997

"The Loaf, the indispensible point of convergence upon every British table, the solid British Quartern Loaf, is like the Soul, Emptiness."

— Pynchon, Thomas (b. 1937)

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Date: 1997

"Nor might any left behind on the ground see her again,-- would they?-- passing above in the Sky, the sleeves of her garment now catching light like wings...her mind no more than that of a Kite, the Wind blowing through..."

— Pynchon, Thomas (b. 1937)

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Date: 1998

"He thinks and thinks, like his brain was a metal plate and hammer, striking, striking, striking, of the harbour of her sharp breasts, and is murdered, murdered."

— Barry, Sebastian (b. 1955)

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Date: 1998

"In the third of the pictures he wore a boxy Chanel jacket and his gaze was turned downward; on some mental screen of selfhood he was a demure and feasible woman, but to an outsider what showed was evasion."

— McEwan, Ian (b. 1948)

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Date: 1998

"hese days he seemed to lack the dedication and clarity or emptiness of mind, and the action itself seemed quaintly outmoded and improbable, like lighting a fire by rubbing two sticks."

— McEwan, Ian (b. 1948)

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Date: 1998

"But belligerence was a poor aid to concentration, as were the three gins and a bottle of wine, and three hours later he was still staring a the score on the piano, in a hunched attitude of work, with a pencil in his hand and a frown, but hearing and seeing only the bright hurdy-gurdy carousel of...

— McEwan, Ian (b. 1948)

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Date: 2000

"Looking at the leaves turn red in the valley simplifies my mind, a javelin flying past those tightly packed tubes of paint in which so many subtle frequencies of light have been trapped, and landing where there is only blood and fire."

— Edward St. Aubyn (b. 1960)

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Date: 2000

"The feeling raged through him, like a burning rope he couldn't hold on to, although someone he loved was falling at the other end of it; it ripped the skin from his hands."

— Edward St. Aubyn (b. 1960)

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The Mind is a Metaphor is authored by Brad Pasanek, Assistant Professor of English, University of Virginia.