Writer compares the career of de Chirico to that of Edvard Munch.

They told her they were going to Mount Munch, and she replied:

Nothing in Munch's life or writing suggests that his feelings were insincere.

Could you really see Capote or Munch taking it that year?

This is classic Munch, exaggeration in the service of emotional truth.

Tells about Munch's appropriation of federal disaster-relief funds for the Nixon Recreation Center.

All that's missing in the Munch picture is the litter bins.

Writer thinks about the immense room shared by Emily Dickinson and Edvard Munch.

My friend instantly morphed into a version of Munch's The Scream.

Having settled our plans, Mr Munch and I went on board with Clement.

They were all applauding heartily, except Miss Munch and her cousin.

And at once Miss Munch's insinuating question leaped up to answer:

Consciously or not, he resembled one of those apparitions in Edvard Munch's paintings.

It was not a pickled onion, but a pickled onion flavour Monster Munch.

Miss Munch's cousin, Mrs. Richards, was sitting alone at the table just behind.

Larsen threatened to kill herself; Munch, not to be outdone, shot himself first.