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Quote by Jack McClelland

“I would not employ an author to referee a Ping-Pong match. By their very nature they are biased and bloody-minded. Better put a fox in a henhouse than to ask an author to judge his peers. (in a letter to the Governor General about the GA's Literary Awards & his issue--among others--with the judging system, 1981)”

Quote by Jack McClelland

Book:Imagining Canadian Literature: The Selected Letters

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Imagining Canadian Literature: The Selected Letters

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Jack McClelland

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“There are currently three places to obtain food in Dublin, where the prices vary according to whim: Chester’s, the Fae, and the black market. If you ask me, they’re all black. Of course nobody does ask me because nobody sees me because I lay low all the time and I’ve got a boyfriend who isn’t much for talking. I snort. I just thought of Jericho Barrons as my “boyfriend.” I doubt that cataclysm was ever a boy and he certainly can’t be called friendly. It’s official. I’m losing it.”

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“He moves in, standing close without touching. He doesn’t need to. I sometimes think our atoms are so glad to see each other that they send little messengers back and forth, ferrying desire, strength, and love between the islands we are.”

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“One minute you think you’ve got the world by the balls, the next minute you don’t know where the fuck the world’s balls are.” “Sure I do,” I say irritably. “Right next to the world’s big fat hairy asshole, upon which I seem to be stuck in superglue lately, waiting for it to have its next case of explosive diarrhea.”

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“I moved to the counter. A note was propped on the register. Welcome home, Ms. Lane. “Arrogant, overconfident jackass.”

Book:Dreamfever

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“You don’t get to make my decisions for me. It’s my life and only I know what I need and what I’m willing to go through. I don’t want to live without you. I felt that once. I never want to feel it again.” I’d been lost, purposeless, denied Heaven. It was as if his frequency and my frequency made such an exquisite song together that without it I wasn’t alive.”

Mackayla Lane Jericho Barrons

Book:Feversong

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“I have to talk to him,” I said flatly. “I forbid it.” Every cell in my being bristled. I practically shouted, “You what?” “For. Bid. It.” “You did not just say that to me.”

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“This lion that I'd sauntered up to wearing my flashy peacock feathers hadn't snapped the head off my skinny, brilliantly colored neck, he'd only licked me and waited for me to grow claws. I had neither flashy feathers nor claws now. I'd become yet another thing. A steel fist inside a velvet glove. Strong enough that I was no longer afraid to be gentle. Powerful enough that I could be vulnerable. Scarred enough that I could understand and thread lightly around the deepest scars of others.”

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“Keep watching rainbows, baby. Keep looking at the sky. You find what you look for. If you go hunting good in the world, you’ll find it. If you go hunting evil … well, don’t.”

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“I’m gonna give one of ’em my virginity one day.” She preened. I was momentarily dumbstruck. I couldn’t begin to enumerate all the things that were appalling about that possibility. “We so have to talk,” I finally managed.”

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“Unmute yourself,” I demanded. “I. Am. Not. Muted.” Did he ever sound pissed!”

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