I should think a dead language would be rather boring, sociallyspeaking.
Finally, we entered Chetaube County, my imaginary birthplace, where the names of the little winding roads and minuscule mountain communities never failed to inspire me: Yardscrabble, Big Log, Upper, Middle and Lower Pigsty, Chicken Scratch,...
Life is too short to waste being a productive member of society.
Have you ever noticed how good things go to those who hate?
I just want to live my own life instead of everyone else’s version of it.
I wouldn’t be caught dead sacrificing myself for this country.
Well, enough of this introspection. It’s depressing, quite frankly.
When it rains it pours and when it shines you get melanoma.
Nobody ever goes to that store to shop because it’s too crowded.