
Carolyn Wells was an American author renowned for her contributions to the mystery genre, as well as for her poetry. Born in a literary family in 1862, she began her career as a writer in the late 19th century, ultimately publishing over 170 works, including novels, short stories, and poetry. Wells is best known for her detective fiction, particularly the 'Fletcher Flagg' series and the 'Melville Davisson Post' stories, which showcased her ability to craft intricate plots and engaging characters. Her works often featured clever twists and a touch of humor, setting her apart from her contemporaries in the genre. Wells's significance in literature lies not only in her prolific output but also in her role as a pioneer of the mystery genre, influencing later authors with her innovative storytelling techniques. Her keen understanding of human nature and her ability to weave suspenseful narratives earned her a dedicated readership during her lifetime. Despite being overshadowed by some of her male counterparts, Wells's contributions to mystery fiction have been increasingly recognized in recent years, solidifying her legacy as a foundational figure in American detective literature.
“The books we think we ought to read are poky, dull, and dry;The books that we would like to read we are ashamed to buy;The books that people talk about we never can recall;And the books that people give us, oh, they're the worst of all.””
“And also...well...i told them I want to get an apartment with him next year rather than live in the dorms."What'd they say?"Over their dead bodies."What did you say?"I asked whether they wanted to be burie or cremated.””
“Food of LoveEating is touch carried to the bitter end. -Samuel Butler III'm going to murder you with love;I'm going to suffocate you with embraces;I'm going to hug you, bone by bone,Till you're dead all over.Then I will dine on your delectable marrow.You will become my personal Sahara;I'll sun myself in you, then with one swallowDrain you remaining brackish well.With my female blade I'll carve my nameIn your most aspiring palmBefore I chop it down.Then I'll inhale your last oasis whole.But in the total desert you becomeYou'll see me stretch, horizon to horizon,Opulent mirage!Wisteria balconies dripping cyclamen.Vistas ablaze with crystal, laced in gold.So you will summon each dry grain of sandAnd move towards me in undulating dunesTill you arrive at sudden ultramarine:A Mediterranean to stroke your dusty shores;Obstinate verdue, creeping inland, fast renudesYour barrens; succulents spring up everywhere,Surprising life! And I will be that green.When you are fed and watered, flourishingWith shoots entwining trellis, dome and spire,Till you are resurrected field in bloom,I will devour you, my natural food,My host, my final supper on the earth,And you'll begin to die again. ””