If you see two people in a car, the passenger’s face is always illuminated by a phone.

John Falstaff talking about wine:

I would you had but the wit: ’twere better than
your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-
blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make
him laugh; but that’s no marvel, he drinks no wine.
There’s never none of these demure boys come to any
proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood,
and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a
kind of male green-sickness; and then when they
marry, they get wenches: they are generally fools
and cowards; which some of us should be too, but for
inflammation. A good sherris sack hath a two-fold
operation in it. It ascends me into the brain;
dries me there all the foolish and dull and curdy
vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive,
quick, forgetive, full of nimble fiery and
delectable shapes, which, delivered o’er to the
voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes
excellent wit. The second property of your
excellent sherris is, the warming of the blood;
which, before cold and settled, left the liver
white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity
and cowardice; but the sherris warms it and makes
it course from the inwards to the parts extreme:
it illumineth the face, which as a beacon gives
warning to all the rest of this little kingdom,
man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and
inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain,
the heart, who, great and puffed up with this
retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour
comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is
nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and
learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till
sack commences it and sets it in act and use.
Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for
the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his
father, he hath, like lean, sterile and bare land,
manured, husbanded and tilled with excellent
endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile
sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If
I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I
would teach them should be, to forswear thin
potations and to addict themselves to sack.

She said, “Why I don’t love you I don’t know; you look like someone I loved before. If I love you, please don’t go; I promise not to love you anymore.”

tim’s old stuff is real good.

it would be nice to experience at least one year of my life where i don’t get totally ripped off by everyone and everything

‘sorry, soldier: that love’s gonna have to come off. nurse, i trust you: go ahead and put on the song that makes you lonely’

Everything in my father’s house is soft and plushy and warm. There are blankets that feel like teddy bear fur draped over every couch and chair. The thermostat is set to the temperature of the human body. The lightbulbs are soft and pale.

When I step out of the shower my feet touch a microfiber pad. When I go to sleep I rest my head on a microfiber pillowcase. When I wash my clothes I must decide between three different types of fabric softener.

In the garage there are metal racks stocked with food. There is a freezer crammed with frozen meat. There are a dozen enormous plastic bottles containing hundreds of gallons of clean drinking water. There are enough boxes of popcorn and cans of vegetables to last you the rest of your life.

The cooking oil is in an aerosol can. The towels all smell like mountain flowers. When I want a cup of coffee, I push a button.

All the little details of my life have always felt so difficult. Here the decisions are made for me. It is nice for right now.