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The Musing Quill

A Blog on Writing, Poetry, Short Stories and Books.

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Excerpts

An Excerpt: Mathilda

When I had lived here some time other animals visited me and a fox came every day for a portion of food appropriated for him & would suffer me to pat his head. I had besides many books and a... Continue Reading →

The Fall – An Excerpt

Let’s sit down on these steamer chairs. What a fog! I interrupted myself, I believe, on the way to the little-ease. Yes, I’ll tell you what I mean. After having struggled, after having used up all my in-solent airs, discouraged... Continue Reading →

Wuthering Heights – An Excerpt

'Yes, she's dead!' I answered, checking my sobs and drying my cheeks. 'Gone to heaven, I hope; where we may, every one, join her, if we take due warning and leave our evil ways to follow good!' 'Did SHE take... Continue Reading →

A Christmas Carol – An Excerpt

“Christmas a humbug, uncle!' said Scrooge's nephew. 'You don't mean that, I am sure?' 'I do,' said Scrooge. 'Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.' 'Come, then,' returned... Continue Reading →

Delhi is not far – An Excerpt

In Pipalnagar there is not exactly despair, but resignation, an indifference to both living and dying. The town is almost truly reflected in the Pipalnagar Home, where in an open courtyard surrounded by mud walls a score of mental patients... Continue Reading →

The Sensualist – An Excerpt

He has produced a small chillum—a clay pipe—and filled it with the dried leaves of the cannabis plant. ‘No wonder you eat so little,’ I say. ‘It is mental food I require. Those few or many years ago of which... Continue Reading →

Men without Women – An Excerpt

I tried to collect fragments of clues as to her whereabouts, in all sorts of places and from all sorts of people. But these were nothing but scraps, assorted bits and pieces. No matter how many you collect, fragments are... Continue Reading →

Delhi: An Excerpt

That leaves the Sikh journalist and the political expert. They are not getting along too well. The Sikh journalist arrives first, plucks a hair from his sparse beard and says ‘You are back! When?’ and orders coffee. The politician follows:... Continue Reading →

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