Nevil Shute's On the Beach is no Christmas carol, but it seems to me a remarkably fine novel, one which I read, in the peculiarly repulsive phrase, with my eyes glued to the page.
I wanted to be cute. That's the terrible thing. I should have had more sense.
One more drink and I'd have been under the host.
Everybody's got their troubles.
A little bad taste is like a nice dash of paprika.
tomorrow's gone-we'll have tonight!