Date: 1997

"Mason had more than once caught the old Astronomer watching Susannah with a focus'd Patience he recogniz'd from the Sector Room...as if waiting for a sudden shift in the sky of Passion, like that headlong change in Star Position that had led him to the discovery of the Aberration of Light,-- wai...

— Pynchon, Thomas (b. 1937)

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)

Date: 1997

"Forgive me, Friend, I've again presum'd our Minds running before the same Wind."

— Pynchon, Thomas (b. 1937)

Date: 1997

"Is it something in this Wilderness, something ancient, that waited for them, and infected their Souls when they came?"

— Pynchon, Thomas (b. 1937)

Date: 1997

"But her innocent attention has reach'd unto the dead Vacuum ever at the bottom of my soul,-- humiliation absolute."

— Pynchon, Thomas (b. 1937)

Date: 1997

"What caretaker, what Verger of the Temple of the Self...?"

— Pynchon, Thomas (b. 1937)

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)

Date: 1997

"They were possessing her in ways more intimate than had ever been allow'd him...interfering at orders of minitude invisible to the human Eye, infiltrated without need of light or Map, commanding the further branches of whatever flows in a Soul like blood,...she and her Captors whispering togethe...

— Pynchon, Thomas (b. 1937)

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)

Date: 1998

"Every second of playing time involved writing out, note by note, the parts of up two dozen instruments, playing them back, making adjustments to the score, playing again, rewriting, then sitting in silence, listening to the inner ear synthesize and orchestrate the vertical array of scribbles and...

— McEwan, Ian (b. 1948)