I have depth. I've read Proust. No, wait, that was Pooh. Winnie the Pooh. My bad" Charley Davidson.

He was like chocolate-covered heroin, and I was an addict through and through.

He seemed determines, his resolve unwavering. This would take tact. Prudence. Possible Milk Duds.

I shifted in my chair as Dad waited for a response. He seemed determined, his resolve unwavering. This would take tact. Prudence. Possibly Milk Duds. “Are you psychotic?” I asked, realizing my plan to charm and bribe him if need be flew out the window the minute I opened my mouth.

A Nuns Life: Chastity, poverty, and obedience. Wait, chastity?" BUMPER STICKER

Writing is transcendental. It is a form of expression, a form of art that you can take anywhere. That you can do anywhere. It poses the deepest questions in the universe. It generates emotion. It elicits empathy, promotes learning, creates an intellect you simply cannot get from any other medium. For me, it is air.

Chocolate and coffee ? Together ? Whoever came up with that combination should have won a Nobel Peace Prize. Or at least a subscription to Reader's Digest.