From the work of David Foster Wallace.

Joined August 2011
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David Foster Wallace retweeted
Replying to @DFWquotes
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The glazed impatience of businessmen standing closer to strangers than they would ever choose to.
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Telling some helium-voiced girl that life is essentially one long search for an ashtray
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Every floral unit on the grounds has its pistil aprick and petals atremble in a truly shameless fashion, for the bees are about.
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I have heard steel drums and eaten conch fritters and watched a woman in silver lamé projectile-vomit inside a glass elevator.
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The ghastly wounds in her cheeks look for all the world like somebody got at her with a woodburning kit at some point in her career path.
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a straight spine, but for the swan's curve of her neck and the bit of the hip-shot pelvis with which she pummeled the unwary
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A sort of soft light broke inside me for the first time in weeks. I called a cab, still in my towel. I jumped in the cab before it had even stopped at the gate. I actually said ‘the nearest library with a cutting edge professional grief and trauma therapy section and step on it’
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she was just too Goddamn-all petrifyingly pretty to approach any other way but liquored up past all horror
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an odd hot euphoria that made me walk with the water-jointed jaunt of the person who truly does not give a shit one way or the other
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Her favorite doll had been the mere head of a doll, the body was lost and it lay now forever supine and unknowing...while its head lived on
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Overhead, on the mezzanine, the THIGHMASTER lady's still at it, on her side, head on her arm, smiling cross-eyed into space.
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while I, sedated, will have slept like a graven image
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bright-red fingernails and deeply tanned, hard, seamed faces, sprayed hair shaped by the professional fingers of men with French names
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in heavy seas you feel rocked to sleep, with the windows' spume a gentle shushing, the engine's throb a mother's pulse
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Cinnamon girl, spiced cream, honey to kiss, melt hot around the center of me.
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