Milk is just cheese wine.
How do you sell a chicken to a deaf man? #thatthingyoudo
…and there she was, lying on the bed in her black dress and silver sparkling heels extending a sliver of a finger my way, cocked and ready to fire. Her smile was something of a misdirection.
—Stories I write in my head.
I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me, you’d better go.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald