In the spring mornings I would work early while my wife still slept. The windows were open wide and the cobbles of the street were drying after the rain.
Ernest HemingwayThe whiskey warmed his tongue and the back of his throat, but it did not change his ideas any, and suddenly, looking at himself in the mirror behind the bar, he knew that drinking was never going to do any good to him now. Whatever he had now he had, and it was from now on, and if he drank himself unconscious when he woke up it would be there.
Ernest Hemingway