Human beings are millions of things in one day.
I'm human. That's how humans spend their time, doing shitty things.
All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal. ... But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not.
For alarmingly large chunks of an average day, I am a moron.
Life isn't, and has never been, a 2-0 home victory after a fish and chip lunch.
Linda seemed to recognize loneliness. Possibly she could see it sitting opposite her, sipping lager and trying not to lose its temper. It was an illness, loneliness-it made you weak, gullible, feebleminded.