No no

You have to like me because I am rationally perfect. I'm sorry, I charted this out and people like it when you:

a) give compliments
b) are environmentally responsible
c) lead a sustainable lifestyle

First of all, I do all of these things. I don't think I even need to get into part of the rest of it.

Say this softly.

Well...I guess I really like you because you're so nice. It's like we can just do whatever I want all the time. It's like you say "I want to do this" and I say "no, I'd rather not do that" and you say okay and you don't mind. I also really like how you give me things sometimes, even when you actually need them. It's also neat in addition because I enjoy that I can do whatever I want and you don't say anything. I just like nice people I guess.

Decision

If I had a huge top lip, everything would be different.

Okay

From this day forward, everything, everything, everthing, everything, is completely different. Except for a few things.

Buddhist Kohn

"I think human beings are poised between two terrors. One is to be known and the other is not to be known. And each of them presents real fear, there is a sense of horrible loneliness, of being completely bereft if you are never really known - not the face that you present, but who you really are. On the other hand, there are times in which the idea of being known, at least by certain people, is equally frightening. The vulnerability it implies is also scary." - Katherine Harrison

On Christmas, my brother told a lynching joke about our president, as told to him from someone in (surprise) Tennessee. Buddhist kohn.

Quick thing.

I would give Jonathan Safran-Foer all of my possessions. I understand idol worship. Thank you.

This is real and wonderful.

Of all the possible luxuries a palate can indulge, eau de vie is my and my husband’s favorite, in particular for the reasons you describe: unless you’re a raving alcoholic, it’s almost always enjoyed with the most adventurous people. While we’ve had many lovely after-dinner digestives, we’ve also shared a 10 a.m. swig with a farmer in Slovenia, a late afternoon glass of homemade eau de vie de poire with a Polish shepherd in the Carpathians, and something resembling plum eau de vie from a gerry can offered to us by some locals atop a mountain in Croatia. We’ve enjoyed the more delicate French Poire William as well, and I’m almost on my last serving of an apricot Palinka I brought home from Hungary. The essence of apricot is so clear after the heat of the brandy, I can barely stand to drink the last drop.

I do wish the virtues of eau de vie were more appreciated here. We often offer it to friends who turn their noses away at its strength. I looked for your Douglas Fir variety after reading about it a few years ago; when I couldn’t find it, I bought Zirbenz, a stone pine liqueur from Austria. Not nearly the same, I’m sure. I’ll search again, and many thanks in advance for whatever adventures the bottle attracts.

— Debra, in response to “The Pursuit and Pleasures of the Pure Spirit”