I hurt with the insatiate longing, until I feel that there will never be any relief until I take a long, deep, wild draught on your lips.
Actually, we're just glorified flagpole sitters.
Practically all we know is that thousands of native Haitians have been killed by American Marines, and that many of our own gallant men have sacrificed their lives at the behest of an Executive department in order to establish laws drafted by the Assistant Secretary of the Navy. ... I will not empower an Assistant Secretary of the Navy to draft a constitution for helpless neighbors in the West Indies and jam it down their throats at the point of bayonets borne by U.S. Marines.
I expect it is very possible that I would make as good a President as a great many men who are talked of for that position.
I was spent up. I sure grabbed that girl of mine.
My once-keen analytical mind has become so dulled by endless hours of baking in the hot sun, thrashing about in tight chimneys, pulling at impossibly heavy loads, freezing my ass off.... so that now my mental state is comparable to that of a Peruvian Indian, well stoked on coca leaves.
I continued with whatever 'qualified climbers' I could con into this rather unpromising venture.
That's good. Go on, read some more.
The president is the cuticle of the nail bed of America: one would think pushing back makes him stronger, yet it turns out the opposite is true.
I do recall that El Cap seemed to be in much better condition than I was.
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