The books—the generous friends who met me without suspicion—the merciful masters who never used me ill! The only years of my life that I can look back on with something like pride… Early and late, through the long winter nights and the quiet summer days, I drank at the fountain of knowledge, and never wearied of the draught.
We always imagine some future self that won’t ever get pissed off — that’ll always go to bed on time, always brush our teeth, always enjoy mind-blowing sex with our spouse on Tuesday night. And yet, Stephen Hawking begs to differ: "We are just an advanced breed of monkeys on a minor planet of a very average star."
The rushing relief was like the first drag of a cigarette. Btw, if you don't smoke too much, the final drag off a cigarette is a powerful nerve tonic. Highly recommended. I've smoked five or six cigarettes my entire life, and each one was fucking awesome. I seriously hope I don't get cancer.