a small mean soul

The Smallminded Grant had changed my life more than money should but does, and in the process it transformed Trent into a living symbol. The man represented everything I was struggling against, everything I could never be. When I knocked on the door of their suburban home, I despised him. Trent had proved himself to be a petty tyrant without a shred of nobility and a small mean soul. For reasons of its own, society had conspired to hand this shallow paper-pusher control over me. It was bad enough that I had degraded myself by bowing and scraping at his pathetic altar to receive the money I needed to write my book. But then, as my work approached completion, Mr. Trent and the Smallminded Foundation suddenly withdrew all support from my efforts. He chastised my life, my work, the very fiber of my art. Trent sickens me.

Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, quotes, reading, short stories, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s