She poured us some more Scotch. It didn't seem to affect her any more than water affects Boulder Dam.

I don’t mind if you don’t like my manners. They’re pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter evenings.

I had a funny feeling as I saw the house disappear, as though I had written a poem and it was very good and I had lost it and would never remember it again.

There is in the soul a desire for not thinking.
For being still. Coupled with this
a desire to be strict, yes, and rigorous.
But the soul is also a smooth son of a bitch,
not always trustworthy. And I forgot that.

Bế quan tỏa cảng với thế giới còn lại

But here is the thing. When he gets on me, I suddenly feel I am fat. I feel am terrifically fat, so fat that Rudy is a tiny thing and hardly there at all.