I admit it: I am an apologist for the screw-top bottle of wine.
Tagged
opinions
It bothers me sometimes that I will never be able to read everything I want to. Seventy, eighty, ninety years isn’t enough time to read it all. Even if I could manage it, an even more incredible feat would be to actually remember everything I read.
The possibility that a black hole eats up the earth is too serious a threat to leave it as a matter of argument among crackpots.
Zero Punctuation on Sim City Societies.
Someone once told me that, these days, adolescence lasts until thirty. I believe him. Occasionally I catch myself doing something very immature; other times, I feel very, very adult. I imagine that my grandparents were at twenty-six what I will be at thirty-six. You know, being part of the greatest generation and all.
I’m not a fan of the man or his band, but Keith Richards is suddenly entertaining. A must-read.
Excerpt:
You should sell your body on eBay.
Yeah, I think so. Apparently, I do have an incredible immune system. I had hepatitis C and cured it by myself.
How?
Just by being me.
I hate using other people’s mice. Explanation unnecessary.
All stories have a beginning, a middle and an ending, and if they’re any good, the ending is a beginning.
Sylvia Plath: Interesting poetess whose tragic suicide was misinterpreted as romantic by the college girl mentality.
The man who looks for security, even in the mind, is like a man who would chop off his limbs in order to have artificial ones which will give him no pain or trouble.
It is not in the least likely that any life has ever been lived which was not a failure in the secret judgment of the person who lived it.
