A Real Gimlet Is Half Gin And

I'm All Done With Hating You. It's All Washed Out Of Me. I Hate People Hard, But I Don't Hate Them Very Long.

The Plants Filled The Place, A Forest Of Them, With Nasty Meaty Leaves And Stalks Like The Newly Washed Fingers Of Dead Men.

I Hung Up. It Was A Good Start, But It Didn’t Go Far Enough. I Ought To Have Locked The Door And Hidden Under The Desk.

There Is No Bad Whiskey. There Are Only Some Whiskeys That Aren't As Good As Others.

He Was A Guy Who Talked With Commas, Like A Heavy Novel. Over The Phone Anyway.