My first impulse was to email this link to my brother, my favorite person to email funny links to. Oh wait.
(via bullshit)
Maybe I’m just full of tequila, but this makes me so happy.
(via Maggie)
I’ve been thinking this one over, and I think I’d like to go out feeling all heartburstingly faithful in the good of mankind, so I’d pick 84, Charing Cross Road, but I’d have to read it 24 times to fill that day, so I’m going with Amphigorey.
If you had 24 hours to live, a room with four walls, a chair and no door, and your choice of book with which to spend those last 24 hours, what would that book be?
I haven’t decided yet, but I’m enjoying thinking about it. Much of what I read now is dictated by a vague notion of self-improvement. That’d be out the window (if there were a window). Much of what I’ve read in the past just wouldn’t feel worthy of my last day.
I’m not talking your desert island movies here, this is the last thing you will ever read. I’ll post some possibilities when I think of them.
Have you forgotten what we were like then
when we were still first rate
and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth
it’s no use worrying about Time
but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves
and turned some sharp corners
the whole pasture looked like our meal
we didn’t need speedometers
we could manage cocktails out of ice and water
I wouldn’t want to be faster
or greener than now if you were with me O you
were the best of all my days