“
The Reformation was a time when men went blind, staggering drunk because they had discovered, in the dusty basement of late medievalism, a whole cellar full of fifteen-hundred-year-old, two-hundred proof Grace–bottle after bottle of pure distilate of Scripture, one sip of which would convince anyone that God saves us single-handedly. The word of the Gospel–after all those centuries of trying to lift yourself into heaven by worrying about the perfection of your bootstraps–suddenly turned out to be a flat announcement that the saved were home before they started…Grace has to be drunk straight: no water, no ice, and certainly no ginger ale; neither goodness, nor badness, not the flowers that bloom in the spring of super spirituality could be allowed to enter into the case.
”
”
Robert Farrar Capon (Between Noon & Three: Romance, Law & the Outrage of Grace)
“
Last time I was sick, the guy I was seeing brought me a bottle of ginger ale… and expected me to pay him back for it. ~Jaime Vegas
”
”
Kelley Armstrong (Industrial Magic (Women of the Otherworld, #4))
“
If you want to feel like ginger ale Claire, drink a ginger ale.
”
”
Ann Hood (The Obituary Writer)
“
The things of your life arrived in their own time, like a train you had to catch. Sometimes this was easy, all you had to do was step onto it, the train was plush and comfortable and full of people smiling at you in a hush, and a conductor who punched your ticket and tousled your head with his big hand, saying, Ain’t you pretty, ain’t you the prettiest girl now, lucky lady taking a big train trip with your daddy, while you sank into the dreamy softness of your seat and sipped ginger ale from a can and watched the world float in magical silence past your window, the tall buildings of the city in the crisp autumn light and then the backs of the houses with laundry flapping and a crossing with gates where a boy was waving from his bicycle, and then the woods and fields and a single cow eating grass.......
.....Because sometimes it was one way, easy, and sometimes it was the other, not easy; the things of your life roared down to you and it was all you could do to grab hold and hang on. Your old life ended, and the train took you away to another...
”
”
Justin Cronin (The Passage (The Passage, #1))
“
I reached for a Coca-Cola.
“Want some?” I asked.
“I do not drink caffeine,” he said.
“Wow, you make me look like a bad girl; that's hard to do.”
He cracked a big smile for the first time I'd seen, and a huge dimple appeared in his right cheek. A butterfly wing flapped in my stomach. I turned my attention back to the drinks, fumbling a little for a cup.
“Don't let me pressure you,” I said. “I was only kidding. We don't need you all hyped up on caffeine. How about ginger ale instead?"
“Is that drink not only for upset stomachs?
”
”
Wendy Higgins (Sweet Evil (Sweet, #1))
“
AS I PLAN MY QUEST,” Quichotte said, drinking from a can of ginger ale, “I ponder the contemporary period as well as the classical. And by the contemporary I mean, of course, The Bachelorette.
”
”
Salman Rushdie (Quichotte)
“
He said he was - this is exactly what he said - he said he was sitting at the table in the kitchen, all by himself, drinking a glass of ginger ale and eating saltines and reading 'Dombey and Son', and all of a sudden Jesus sat down in the other chair and asked if he could have a small glass of ginger ale. A small glass, mind you - that's exactly what he said. I mean he says things like that, and yet he thinks he's perfectly qualified to give me a lot of advice and stuff! I could just spit! I could! It's like being in a lunatic asylum and having another patient all dressed up as a doctor come over to you and start taking your pulse or something…
”
”
J.D. Salinger (Franny and Zooey)
“
If I bottled ginger ale, it’d be made from the finest red hair available.
”
”
Jarod Kintz (A Zebra is the Piano of the Animal Kingdom)
“
And it’s there, on the fourth floor of the library, watching my nemesis take slow slips of ginger ale, that I had a horrifying realization.
Neil...is cute.
”
”
Rachel Lynn Solomon (Today Tonight Tomorrow (Rowan & Neil, #1))
“
I scattered J.Lo's tools around the car, searching for some kind of rope, or something that could be used like a rope. I should have paid more attention to anything that looked like a pencil sharpener made of lemon Jell-O that, when cranked, would spit out superstrong yarn that smelled like ginger ale. I only mention this because J.Lo really did have such a thing.
”
”
Adam Rex
“
What shocked us the most was that we had no idea why we should be so shocked. Like opening a ginger ale and finding Jamesons' inside: nothing wrong with it, but it sort of takes you by surprise.
”
”
Spider Robinson (Callahan's Crosstime Saloon (Callahan's, #1))
“
She introduces me to a nurse as the Best Friend. The impersonal article is more intimate. It tells me that they are intimate, the nurse and my friend.
'I was telling her we used to drink Canada Dry ginger ale and pretend were were in Canada'
'That's how dumb we were,' I say.
'You could be sisters,' the nurse says.
So how come, I'll bet they are wondering, it took me so long to get to such a glorious place? But do they ask?
They do not ask.
Two months, and how long is the drive?
The best I can explain it is this - I have a friend who worked one summer in a mortuary. He used to tell me stories. The one that really got to me was not eh grisliest, but it's the one that did. A man wrecked his care on 101 going south. He did not lose consciousness. But his arm was taken down to the bone - and when he looked at it - it scared him to death.
I mean, he died.
So I hadn't dared to look any closer. But now I'm doing it - and hoping that I will live through it.
”
”
Amy Hempel (Reasons to Live)
“
He was an unpleasant youth, snub-nosed and spotty. Still, he could balance himself with one hand on an inverted ginger-ale bottle while revolving a barrel on the soles of his feet. There is good in all of us.
”
”
P.G. Wodehouse (The Works of P.G. Wodehouse)
“
Still, he could balance himself with one hand on an inverted ginger-ale bottle while revolving a barrel on the soles of his feet. There is good in all of us.
”
”
P.G. Wodehouse (The Works of P.G. Wodehouse)
“
She didn’t notice the flashing camera lights of her purchasing ginger ale and pregnancy tests. The only thing on her mind was getting back home and under her covers. Miko
”
”
Nako (From His Rib (The Underworld, #3))
“
GIVE ME A WHISKEY...GINGER ALE ON THE SIDE...AND DONT BE STINGY BABY
”
”
Garbo
“
For one hour a day, Lucifer took a break from his surveillance to indulge a guilty pleasure: drinking a tall, icy glass of Schweppes ginger ale and watching The O’Reilly Factor.
”
”
Robert Kroese (Mercury Rests)
“
When the waiter came I ordered a glass of Chianti, and Bill kicked me under the table and shook his head “no.” I stuck to my guns and drank my wine, but I do know there was a little tension in Bill’s face after that at the table every time I lifted my glass. Bill and Sam stuck to ginger ale. Bill later told me that before the dinner he had been recommending me to Jimmy and he wanted me to make a good impression. During
”
”
Charles Brandt ("I Heard You Paint Houses", Updated Edition: Frank "The Irishman" Sheeran & Closing the Case on Jimmy Hoffa)
“
My in-box floods, as it did last summer, with alarming crime-alert messages from campus security. Shooting in the early evening. Sodomy in the morning. Decapitation at 3:30 in the afternoon. I wonder when is a nonbeheading time to go out and buy ginger ale.
”
”
Mona Awad (Bunny)
“
They say you learn by doing, but you don't have to. If you learn only from your own experience, you're limited. By reading the Internet you can find out more. What grows in what season. The best way to strip an artichoke. What type of onions work best in French onion soup. Endless detail on any topic. You can learn from people who are experimenting with Swiss buttercream, or perfecting their gluten-free pumpernickel crackers, or taste-testing everything from caviar to frozen pizza to ginger ale. All of their failures keep you from having to fail in the same way.
”
”
Jael McHenry (The Kitchen Daughter)
“
Paul, all I know is that this is the third time we've talked tonight, you're saying 'fuck' to me, I'm a guy, and your penis has been mentioned numerous times. Jesus, you're acting like you're some teenager. Work through this shit with a shrink, man. I don't care if you're gay.' Here again, I achieved silence. But not for long. The breathing became heavy and then, 'What the fuck kind of game are you playing?' 'It's no game, man. You want to close a sale? I want to see your penis. It's a fair exchange if you ask me.' He hung up again, and I reached for my perfectly spicy, scratch-your-throat-like-a-cat-claw-hot Blenheim ginger ale and took a long swallow. This particular credit card company has not called me again. And, to my delight, AT&T never called me again after I asked one of their friendly Southern females if by any chance she happened to be a male-to-female transsexual, and if so, what vaginal depth her surgeon had managed to attain for her. 'Four inches is pretty common,' I told her. 'But if you dilate religiously, you can probably achieve five.' I even got the phrase 'self-lubricating' out before she hung up on me.
”
”
Augusten Burroughs (Magical Thinking: True Stories)
“
That obstinate sense of independence was the biggest challenge I face in building my little house (that, and not always knowing what I was doing). I was stubborn in the way I hated to ask for help. Some people are good at it, asking friends or their husbands to collect ginger ale and crackers at the grocery because they feel nauseous, or standing on the side of the road with a tire iron in one hand, hoping someone will stop to change their flat tire. I'm not like that; I'd rather have a rough stick dragged across my gums than walk to the neighbor's house to borrow sugar or ask for help jump-starting my car.
”
”
Dee Williams
“
Does it not whet your appetite for the critical opera omnia of such an author, where he will freely have at the lenth and breath of Scripture? Can you not see his promised land flowing with peanut butter and jelly; his apocalypse, in which the great whore of Babylon is given the cup of ginger ale of the fierceness of the wrath of God?
”
”
Robert Farrar Capon (The Supper of the Lamb: A Culinary Reflection (Modern Library Food))
“
I can remember the days, said the Gin-and-Ginger-Ale, when every other girl you met stood about six feet two in her dancing-shoes, and had as many curves as a Scenic Railway.
”
”
P.G. Wodehouse
“
was sprawled on the family-room couch, half asleep in front of a Clint Eastwood movie. A can of ginger ale and an empty bag of pretzels sat on the table in front of him. He opened one eye and saw Maura, then looked at Greg and winked. “Hey, little buddy . . . I see your ladyfriend is here.” Greg felt the urge to lash out, like he’d done with Eileen and Brittany at school on Friday morning. But this time he didn’t take the bait. He said, “We’re just copying some artwork. For a project we’re doing. And it’s gonna make noise. We have to.” Ross heaved himself up off the couch, shut off the TV, burped, mumbled, “’Scuse me” in Maura’s general direction, and went looking for a quieter place to waste another hour or two. Greg said, “I got this paper that’s good and bright, but it’s not as thick as regular copy paper. Makes it easier to fold.” After placing the first master sheet face down on the glass, he pushed Print, and then held up the copy for Maura to see. Pointing at a gray area, he said, “See that? I can change the settings and make that part darker. It ought to be solid black. Except for that, it’s a good copy.” The machine beeped as Greg made the change, and then he pushed the Print button.
”
”
Andrew Clements (Lunch Money (Rise and Shine))
“
Christmas Eve Punch Ingredients 2 cups water ¾ cup sugar ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon 4 cups chilled cranberry/apple juice 1 46-ounce can chilled pineapple juice 1 liter chilled ginger ale In a large saucepan bring your water, sugar, and cinnamon to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Chill. Before you serve, add the sugar water mixture, chilled juices, and ginger ale to a large punch bowl. Serve in party glasses over ice.
”
”
Lee Hollis (Death of a Christmas Caterer (Hayley Powell Food and Cocktails Mystery, #5))
“
I don’t want kids of my own. I do not want to be a mother. I have always known this. I have never played with baby dolls. I have never wanted to hold a newborn. I don’t want to have to sacrifice anything for a child, I already have too many people to take care of, and I don’t want my child to have hazy memories of me in a silk robe with a whiskey ginger ale at 11:00 A.M. acting queerly around bath time, around water—was I…trying to drown them? Oh, honey.
”
”
Karla Cornejo Villavicencio (The Undocumented Americans)
“
Downstairs, entertaining company, Desdemona heard her son’s clarinet and, as if orchestrating a harmony, let out a long sigh. For the last forty-five minutes Gus and Georgia Vasilakis and their daughter Gaia had been sitting in the living room. It was Sunday afternoon. On the coffee table a dish of rose jelly reflected light from the sparkling glasses of wine the adults were drinking. Gaia nursed a glass of lukewarm Vernor’s ginger ale. An open tin of butter cookies sat on the table.
”
”
Jeffrey Eugenides (Middlesex)
“
I wonder what it’s like. Touching tongues with someone.” “Me too.” “It’s probably really disgusting, but maybe we should try it. Then we’d know for sure.” “Okay. Stick out your tongue.” “Hold on. I have to swallow.” I took a drink of ginger ale. “Now I’m ready.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I stuck my tongue out and waited as Oliver leaned toward me, presumably with his tongue out too. But he missed my mouth and ended up licking my cheek. “Gross,” I said, wiping my cheek with my sleeve. “Sorry, my eyes were closed. I’ll try again.
”
”
Melanie Harlow (Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms, #2))
“
Loaves of fig and pepper bread, of course. But there was also lasagna cooked in miniature pumpkins, and pumpkin-seed brittle. Roasted red pepper soup, and spiced caramel potato cakes. Corn muffins and brown sugar popcorn balls and a dozen cupcakes, each with a different frosting, because what was first frost without frosting? Pear beer and clove ginger ale in dark bottles sat in the icy beverage tub. They ate well into the afternoon, and the more they ate, the more food there seemed to be. Pretzel buns and cranberry cheese and walnuts appearing, just when they thought they'd tasted everything.
”
”
Sarah Addison Allen (First Frost (Waverley Family, #2))
“
I found him in the private bar having a gin and ginger ale. His face, never much to write home about, was rendered even less of a feast for the eye by a dark scowl. His spirits were plainly at their lowest ebb, as so often happens when Sundered Heart A is feeling that the odds against his clicking with Sundered Heart B cannot be quoted at better than a hundred to eight.
Of course he may have been brooding because he had just heard that a pal of his in Moscow had been liquidated that morning, or he had murdered a capitalist and couldn't think of a way of getting rid of the body, but I preferred to attribute his malaise to frustrated love, and I couldn't help feeling a pang of pity for him
”
”
P.G. Wodehouse (Aunts Aren't Gentlemen (Jeeves, #15))
“
He was referring to the fact that ethical birth-control pills, the only legal form of birth control, made people numb from the waist down. Most men said their bottom halves felt like cold iron or balsa-wood. Most women said their bottom halves felt like wet cotton or stale ginger ale. The pills were so effective that you could blindfold a man who had taken one, tell him to recite the Gettysburg Address, kick him in the balls while he was doing it, and he wouldn’t miss a syllable. The pills were ethical because they didn’t interfere with a person’s ability to reproduce, which would have been unnatural and immoral. All the pills did was take every bit of pleasure out of sex. Thus did science and morals go hand in hand.
”
”
Kurt Vonnegut Jr. (Welcome to the Monkey House)
“
wander down the hallway to our old bedroom off the kitchen. It is exactly as it has always been: our twin beds made, our favorite children’s books still on the shelf, a red tobacco tin filled with crayon stubs. I know if I go into the guest bathroom and reach up blindly onto the top shelf above the toilet I will find a pack of menthol cigarettes, hidden where she thinks no one will find them. The most wonderful thing about my grandmother, among many wonderful things, is that everything is always the same. The lovely lemon-wood smell of the house, the little bottles of ginger ale pushed to the back of the icebox for hot days. The silver thimble her mother gave her when she was a girl, nestled in a lavender box on her bureau.
”
”
Miranda Cowley Heller (The Paper Palace)
“
We each took a cup as we passed and drank the sweet chilled beverage- it was refreshing and tasted like ginger ale with a swirl of summer peaches. Then Peaseblossom waved us through the open door.
"Wow," said Henry.
We stepped into an enchanted culinary forest. The walls had been painted to look like a thicket of trees, and the ceiling resembled the summer sky in the woods, complete with overhanging branches. There were topiaries and baskets overflowing with wildflowers. The tables were grouped to one side, still draped in their shimmering coverings. Dreamy music floated through the air, and piney, herby scents wafted on gentle currents. Butterflies flitted around and landed on people's heads and shoulders. And everywhere we looked, there were trays of baked goods- most of them, I realized, straight from the pages of Puffy Fay's cookbook. The pastry case and the counter near it were hidden behind curtains that looked like a wall of evergreens.
”
”
Rajani LaRocca (Midsummer's Mayhem)
“
„Víš, co je největší tragédie na celém světě?“ zeptala se ho Ginger, která jeho slovům nevěnovala tu nejmenší pozornost. „Jsou to všichni ti lidé, kteří nikdy nepřijdou na to, co by chtěli opravdu dělat nebo v čem jsou opravdu dobří. Jsou to všichni ti synové, kteří se stanou kováři, protože jejich otec byl kovář. Jsou to všichni ti lidé, kteří mohli hrát fantasticky na flétnu, kteří ale zestárnou a umřou, aniž v životě uvidí jediný hudební nástroj, takže se z nich místo toho stanou mizerní oráči. Všichni ti lidé s vrozeným, ale nikdy neobjeveným talentem. Možná že se dokonce rodí v časech a místech, kde to vůbec zjistit nemohou.
”
”
Terry Pratchett (Moving Pictures (Discworld, #10; Industrial Revolution, #1))
“
We took a hike in Malibu and shared ice cream. I stayed with him while he had walking pneumonia, heating soup and pouring him glass after glass of ginger ale and feeling his fevered forehead as he slept. He warned me of the life that was coming for me if I wasn’t careful. Success was a scary thing for a young person, he said. I was twenty-four and he was thirty-three (“Jesus’s age,” he reminded me more than a few times). There was something tender about him, broken and gentle, and I could imagine that sex with him might be similar. I wouldn’t have to pretend like I did with other guys. Maybe we would both cry. Maybe it would feel just as good as sharing a bed. On Valentine’s Day, I put on lace underwear and begged him to please, finally, have sex with me. The litany of excuses he presented in response was comic in its tragedy: “I want to get to know you.” “I don’t have a condom.” “I’m scared, because I just like you too much.” He took an Ambien and fell asleep, arm over my side, and as I lay there, wide awake and itchy in my lingerie set, it occurred to me: this was humiliating, unsexy, and, worst sin of all, boring. This wasn’t comfort. This was paralysis. This was distance passing for connection. I was being desexualized in slow motion, becoming a teddy bear with breasts.
”
”
Lena Dunham (Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She's "Learned")
“
I’m sipping cranberry-and-ginger-ale punch and talking to Aunt D. about her divorce when Peter Kavinsky walks in wearing a hunter-green sweater with a button-down shirt underneath, carrying a Christmas tin. I almost choke on my punch.
Kitty spots him when I do. “You came!” she cries. She runs right into his arms, and he puts down the cookie tin and picks her up and throws her around. When he sets her down, she takes him by the hand and over to the buffet table, where I’m busying myself rearranging the cookie plate.
“Look what Peter brought,” she says, pushing him forward.
He hands me the cookie tin. “Here. Fruitcake cookies my mom made.”
“What are you doing here?” I whisper accusingly.
“The kid invited me.” He jerks his head toward Kitty, who has conveniently run back over to the puppy. Josh is standing up now, looking over at us with a frown on his face. “We need to talk.”
So now he wants to talk. Well, too late. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”
Peter takes me by the elbow and I try to shake him off, but he won’t let go. He steers me into the kitchen. “I want you to make up an excuse to Kitty and leave,” I say. “And you can take your fruitcake cookies with you.”
“First tell me why you’re so pissed at me.”
“Because!” I burst out. “Everyone is saying how we had sex in the hot tub and I’m a slut and you don’t even care!”
“I told the guys we didn’t!”
“Did you? Did you tell them that all we did was kiss and that’s all we’ve ever done?” Peter hesitates, and I go on. “Or did you say, ‘Guys, we didn’t have sex in the hot tub,’ wink wink, nudge nudge.
”
”
Jenny Han (To All the Boys I've Loved Before (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, #1))
“
I often took the bus to her apartment, where we drank bourbon and ginger ale, listened to the music we wanted to impress each other with, which eventually turned into listening to the music we actually liked.
”
”
Rob Sheffield (Love is a Mix Tape)
“
To Yahweh"
“YHWH is definitely a verb form. We can take comfort in the certain
knowledge that God is a verb, not a noun or an adjective.”
– The Gifts of the Jews, Thomas Cahill
God is the spray on your lip from the freshly-poured ginger ale.
No, God is the arrival on your lip of the spray. The arcing. The spree.
God is definitely not that weird sexuality of wild bird rehabilitators.
God is, instead, waves blown back hard from the shore. At night.
Perhaps he is the rumbling scaring done by the haunted freight train,
the shrill ghouls in the back cars climbing over each other to escape.
God is weequashing: The spearing of eels or fish from a canoe by torchlight.
God is the inventing of words like weequashing.
She is not the fire darkening down.
She is the goldfinch singing the whisper song.
And the birthing of a second child, to feel your body blooming.
To feel head, then shoulders, thighs then cord tumbling. To live. To life!
To give the initial downbeat to the tympanis. To cure mice by placing them in a cello.
To do whatever the scarecrow did with his brains. And to make that acrid or burned quality
of the smell of space. To crow, to fly, to gild and gnaw. To mean.
Shape, shear, smear and shine. Play and improvise. To last.
”
”
Tina Kelley
“
Alli’s Gin-Gins Half lime squeezed (Jamaican lime is my fav) 2 oz. (2.5 oz. for me) dry gin—Tanqueray preferred Ice to chill the gin Top with ginger ale (my fav is ginger beer for an added punch) Splash of grenadine to make it pretty
”
”
Diana Marcum (The Fallen Stones: Chasing Butterflies, Discovering Mayan Secrets, and Looking for Hope Along the Way)
“
For Dads
Helping Ease Her Quease Morning sickness is one pregnancy symptom that definitely doesn’t live up to its name. It’s a 24/7 experience that can send your spouse running to the bathroom morning, noon, and night—and hugging the toilet far more than she’ll be hugging you. So take steps to help her feel better—or at least not worse. Lose the aftershave that she suddenly finds repulsive, and get your onion ring fix out of her sniffing range (thanks to her hormones, her sense of smell is supersized). Fill her gas tank so she doesn’t have to come nose-to-nozzle with the fumes at the pump. Fetch her foods that quell her queasies and don’t provoke another run to the toilet. Good choices include ginger ale, soothing smoothies, and crackers (but ask first—what spells r-e-l-i-e-f for one queasy woman spells v-o-m-i-t for another). Encourage her to eat small meals throughout the day instead of 3 large ones (spreading out the load and keeping her tummy filled may ease her nausea), but don’t chide her for her food choices (now’s not the time to nag her about eating her broccoli). Be there for support when she’s throwing up—hold back her hair, bring her some ice water, rub her back. And remember, no jokes. If you were throwing up for weeks, you wouldn’t find it amusing. Not surprisingly, neither does she.
”
”
Heidi Murkoff (What to Expect When You're Expecting: (Updated in 2024))
“
Grandma’s Lime Gelatin Surprise Feeds a crowd! 1 large OR 2 small packages lime-flavored gelatin 1 20-ounce can pineapple pieces not drained (You need 1 cup of liquid here. You may have to add water to make 1 cup of liquid.) 1 8-ounce package cream cheese, softened 1 cup ginger ale 2 cups boiling water (Recipe needs a total of 4 cups liquid.) Mix 2 cups boiling water with gelatin and dissolve completely. Add softened cream cheese to ginger ale and mix well. Add mixture to gelatin. Add undrained pineapple and mix well. Refrigerate until firm.
”
”
Nancy Carabio Belanger (Olivia's Gift)
“
Jet’s hair was so tangled a brush would no longer go through it. She didn’t bathe and ate only crackers and ginger ale. She slept with the edition of Emily Dickinson that Levi had given her. Inside he had written Forever—is composed of—Nows.
”
”
Alice Hoffman (The Rules of Magic)
“
bourbon with a splash of ginger ale, a shot of maple syrup, then club soda
”
”
James Patterson (The Ninth Month)
“
bourbon with a splash of ginger ale, a shot of maple syrup, then club
”
”
James Patterson (The Ninth Month)
“
I ordered a ginger ale and then promptly began stewing. I was watching the ranks of protesters file past. But I was also thinking of all I’d seen the past few days—of Hebron, Susya, and the Old City—and how distant it felt from these protests. Back in America these protests enjoyed positive coverage and were taken as evidence of the vitality and mettle of “the only democracy in the Middle East.” But by then I knew that “the only democracy in the Middle East” was essentially a tagline which, like “the Breakfast of Champions” or “Just do it,” depended less on logic or observed reality than a form of word association. The “Middle East” is the insanity of suicide bombings, the backwardness of a woman peeking out from her niqab. “Democracy” is a flag over Iwo Jima, Washington crossing the Delaware, a working man rising in a town meeting. Overlay the two phrases and a collage emerges—a visual representation of Herzl’s dream of “an outpost of civilization against barbarism.” And this collage is a technology, as functional as any other: Who can judge democratic Israel, which must exist in “that part of the world” where child brides, chemical weapons, and bin Laden reign?
”
”
Ta-Nehisi Coates (The Message)
“
Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “Do you mean you weren’t just feeling slightly airsick, and a bottle of ginger ale wouldn’t help your stomach feel better?” “I suppose,” I said, unscrewing the cap, “you may kinda sorta have a point.” “Besides, you get the most adorably consternated look on your face.
”
”
Craig Schaefer (The Long Way Down (Daniel Faust, #1))
“
And what can I tell you about Detroit? My city is ripped down the middle. It’s a place that is two parts post-apocalypse and three parts stubborn as hell. A city that keeps running on idealism mixed up with cynicism, covered over by pragmatism and sprinkled with the long-lasting poison of racism. But we still build your cars. We still make your music. We still bottle the best ginger ale in the world and have championship hockey and basketball teams and the only international marathon course in the world and my Tigers.
”
”
Anna Clark (A Detroit Anthology)
“
Westcott gets a ginger ale and a Heineken. He doesn’t want the latter. He has to make
the pretense. Sitting beside Regn ("Wren") the front of her black dress opens enough. It is respectable and nothing more. He does not like a woman who flaunts her cleavage. Regn is not one of those women. Westcott cautiously looks to see the elusive hummingbird etched above her right breast. He finds himself inhaling deeply, with complete imperceptibility to anyone who might be watching—though no one is—to catch the scent of her perfume. Sharon drags him onto the dance floor. Her husband doesn’t mind. After all it is innocent. They meander across the floor to Regn who is shaking out a rhythm by herself like so many of the dancers. None of the men ask Regn to dance. Everyone more or less has a date or spouse. Regn and Sharon each take one of Westcott’s hands. The three move together. Or rather they move his limbs. He wants to step lightly, freely, to sweep across the floor. He knows he could if
it was just he and Regn and no one was watching. But no, that won’t do either. He wants to dance as a gentleman—to lead and direct this woman with precision, the precision and deliberateness with which he’s pursued her, unwittingly. He wants the world to look upon them and see what he hides. He wants to be applauded and yes, even envied a bit, for his grace and certainty of step. More than anything he wants Regn to move with him. Had he
the confidence, the experience, were he a true man, it could never have happened. It is the slow advance that makes her love him. In many ways he is just a boy. She wants to protect him, but sometimes that look, that expression, is so old, determined. He knows what she wants. She can’t deny the way the feeling of being loved makes her feel. It’s been so long.
”
”
Wheston Chancellor Grove (Who Has Known Heights)
“
You Never Can Tell"
It was a teenage wedding,
and the old folks wished them well
You could see that Pierre
did truly love the mademoiselle
And now the young monsieur
and madame have rung the chapel bell,
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
it goes to show you never can tell
They furnished off an apartment
with a two room Roebuck sale
The coolerator was crammed
with TV dinners and ginger ale,
But when Pierre found work,
the little money comin' worked out well
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
it goes to show you never can tell
They had a hi-fi phono, boy, did they let it blast
Seven hundred little records,
all rock, rhythm and jazz
But when the sun went down,
the rapid tempo of the music fell
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
it goes to show you never can tell
They bought a souped-up jitney,
'twas a cherry red '53,
They drove it down New Orleans
to celebrate their anniversary
It was there that Pierre was married
to the lovely mademoiselle
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
it goes to show you never can tell
”
”
Chuck Berry
“
PUDOVKIN: Kind of pooped, eh? You’ll lose that bay window before we’re through with you. BESSEMER (panting): Say, bud, bring me a glass of water, will you? MRS. BESSEMER: I’ll take some plain ginger ale. PUDOVKIN: Wouldn’t you rather have a tall, cool rum collins with mint and lots of ice? MRS. BESSEMER: Why, that sounds delicious. PUDOVKIN (comfortably) : Doesn’t it? I’ll hop down the mountain and get one. It’s only four miles—the exercise’ll do me good. BESSEMER: Look, if it’s any trouble, I’d just as soon— PUDOVKIN: Nonsense, that’s what I’m paid for, to run down every time some lush wants a snort. Or if you prefer, I can carry you down on my back.
”
”
S.J. Perelman (The World of SJ Perelman: The Marx Brother's Greatest Scriptwriter)
“
First he goes to work and he takes some pineapple syrup and he puts it in a glass, and then he puts in just a liddle, lid-dle bit of that juice off them bottles full of red cherries, and then he puts in the gin and the ginger ale, and then he gets him a big, long piece of pineapple and he lays that in, and then when he gets the orange in and puts that old red cherry on top—well! That’s the way Horace does when he fixes a mint julep.” The
”
”
Dorothy Parker (Complete Stories (Penguin Classics))
“
Kit gets a ginger ale from the fridge and pours it into a glass. She hands it to Matt, and he smiles faintly and says, “Thank you.” She doesn’t say anything back, but she squeezes his shoulder. What’s going on with the two of them? He won’t let us do a damn thing for him, but he’s letting Kit get him something to drink? She smiles and walks back to the bedroom, taking her coffee with her. “She’s going to break your fucking heart, man,” Matt warns after she closes the door. I know. She’s going to break my fucking heart. Because I’ve never wanted anything with anyone the way I want something I can’t even define with her.
”
”
Tammy Falkner (Tall, Tatted and Tempting (The Reed Brothers, #1))
“
I’m still going to marry you. I’m not going to let you get out of it.” I sit up. “I don’t think I said yes.” His gaze drops to my boobs, and he licks his lips. “You will.” I shake my head. He sits up and cups the side of my face. “You don’t want to be married or you don’t want to be married to me?” “It’s not—” I stop. I don’t know how to say what I want to say. “It’s not you.” He tosses the covers back. “Oh, don’t give me the it’s-not-you speech.” He mocks a female voice. “It’s not you, it’s me. I need some time to work on me right now. I need to focus on myself. I need you to get the fuck out of my life.” His voice goes back to normal. “If that’s how you feel, you should just say it.” “Don’t put words in my mouth.” I scramble naked across the bed trying to catch up with him, but he’s already at the door. He closes it behind him. I lay my head against it. The door opens a minute later, and his arm slides in. He’s holding a can of ginger ale and a pack of crackers. “Eat and drink these quickly so you won’t spend the morning puking.” “Are you still mad at me?” I ask as I take them from his hand. “Yes.” The door closes. Bile rises up my throat, so I take a quick sip of the ginger ale. This is usually how it goes in the morning as soon as my feet hit the floor. But the drink actually makes me feel better. Go figure. I sit on the edge of the bed and fall back, eating a cracker and trying to be still for a few minutes. The door opens again and only his voice comes in. “Glad it worked.” The door shuts with a click. I grin. I can’t help it. He’s taking care of me even though he’s mad at me. And that scares me even more than it would if he ignored me and treated me like every other man in the world. Like I don’t exist.
”
”
Tammy Falkner (Proving Paul's Promise (The Reed Brothers, #5))
“
But now that I’m sitting up, nausea hits me. I flop back onto the bed. “Go get Friday a can of ginger ale,” Paul says to Hayley. “Her tummy hurts.” Hayley runs out of the room and comes back with a cold can as Paul said. She opens it up, takes a sip, and hands it to me. She grins and wipes her hand across the back of her mouth. “What did I tell you about drinking out of people’s drinks?” “It’s just Friday,” she says. She blinks those blue eyes at me. I’m just Friday. I’m just Paul’s girlfriend, which makes me something serious in her life. It’s kind of scary, knowing I’m something to her. But in a good way, for the first time ever. “Is your tummy feeling better?” she asks. “Not yet.” She sits cross-legged in front of me. “Maybe you just need to go poop,” she says, looking at me very seriously. Paul falls back on the bed, clutching his gut as he laughs. He laughs until he has tears rolling out of his eyes. He wipes them and goes to get me some crackers, laughing all the way down the hall. Sam stops and pops his head into the room. I’m glad I’m wearing one of Paul’s really long T-shirts. Sam grins at me. “Maybe you should just give it a try,” he says, “just in case you need to poop.” I throw a pillow at his head. He ducks, and it flies over him. He mocks an affronted look. “You didn’t throw a pillow at Hayley.” I grab her toe and tug it. “Because I like her.” She grins at me and looks smugly at Sam. He scrunches up his face like he’s upset. “I like you, too,” Hayley says quietly when Sam steps out of the doorway. I could get used to this family thing. Paul comes back with a pack of crackers, opens them, and hands me one. I nibble the edge of it. He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Just so you know,” he says softly, “I’ve never had a woman sleep in my bed when Hayley’s here before.” My heart squeezes in my chest, and my belly flutters. I know this much about him. “So no matter what, don’t break her heart, okay?” he asks softly. His blue eyes stare into mine. “You cuddled with her daddy and with her, so that makes you special. Keep that in mind, no matter what.” There’s something almost ominous about his tone, but I have no idea what his reticence is about. I wish I did.
”
”
Tammy Falkner (Proving Paul's Promise (The Reed Brothers, #5))
“
I look down at her feet. “Are you sure you should be wearing those stilts? What if you trip?” She snorts. “I’m pregnant, Matt, not dying. Stop worrying. I swear, you’re worse than Logan.” “You want to put on some flatter shoes? It would make me feel better.” She pulls my tie up tight against my neck. “Since when do I care about making you feel better?” she asks, but she’s smiling gently at me. “Always. You started loving me the day you met me.” “You mean when you were puking your guts out?” she tosses back at me. She’s the only one who knew how sick I was back then. Or at least I thought she was. It turned out that all my brothers knew; they were just trying to keep it from me. “You brought me a bucket,” I remind her, and the thought makes me grin. “And ginger ale.” “And you snuggled with me on the couch.
”
”
Tammy Falkner (Maybe Matt's Miracle (The Reed Brothers, #4))
“
He drank ginger ale. It didn’t faze me. I lived in Utah, after all.
”
”
Noelle W. Ihli (Ask for Andrea)
“
I’ve had good ideas before.” She counts off on her fingers as we walk down the hall. “Trying to make ginger ale out of seltzer water and powdered ginger from your dad’s spice rack.” “It didn’t taste that bad.” “Sprayed PAM all over my mom’s kitchen floor so you and I could go ‘indoor ice-skating.’” “If you’re going to try and tell me you didn’t have fun, you are a liar.” “The time in fifth-grade math when Ms. Miller was super mad at everyone, asked us when exactly we’d all stopped listening to her, and you told her: ‘Around October.
”
”
Katie Henry (Gideon Green in Black and White)
“
Can I buy you a drink?” “Ginger ale would be good.” She still held my hand and her skin was scorching hot. “Ginger ale? You came to a bar to drink ginger ale?” A smile danced in her eyes. “No, I came to a bar to meet a fascinating woman. I drink ginger ale so I’ll remember her after.
”
”
Nathan Lowell (Half Share (Golden Age of the Solar Clipper, #2))
“
blueberry margarita It’s a stretch, but I like to think of this drink as the boozy almost-equivalent of an açai bowl, since it’s made with pomegranate juice and fresh blueberries. You can take it all the way healthy by omitting tequila, if you like your drinks dry, and subbing in ginger ale, club soda, or a nonalcoholic spirit. Either way, it’s perfect for a summer (or, if you live in Los Angeles, spring/summer/fall/winter) day. TIME: 3 MINUTES SERVES: 1 2 tablespoons Himalayan pink salt 1 lime wedge 4 fresh mint leaves ¼ cup rinsed fresh blueberries, plus 4 blueberries for garnish 2 ounces tequila ½ ounce fresh lime juice 1 ounce pomegranate juice ½ ounce Ginger Syrup Pour the Himalayan salt into a small dish. Run the wedge of lime around the rim of a highball glass, then twist the rim in the salt until fully coated. Fill the salt-rimmed glass with ice and set aside. Clap the mint to bring out its flavor, then put it and the blueberries into a shaker. Muddle them until pulverized. Add a handful of ice, the tequila, lime juice, pomegranate juice, and ginger syrup. Shake vigorously until chilled; strain into the prepared glass. Skewer 4 blueberries onto a cocktail pick and use to garnish the drink. Serve and enjoy.
”
”
Moby (The Little Pine Cookbook: Modern Plant-Based Comfort)
“
Thomas and Rose stood against the wall, sipping on a mixture of juices sparked up with ginger ale. The Homecoming king and queen led off, two fiddlers playing a catchy Michif march. The spotlight cast a wavering patch where Sharlo appeared. Her crown, topped by a silver star, caught what light there was and she seemed to float along as she advanced. Perhaps she wasn’t even touching the floor. That’s what Thomas thought, disoriented, watching her move magically along through the gloom. She was one of the star beings, given, for her time on earth, human shape and form
”
”
Louise Erdrich (The Night Watchman)
“
The bar was perfectly dingy, with dark amber lights and a stucco ceiling. It’s been a writer haunt for almost a century, and Gala said it really looked it. The walls were covered with photos of men who had the appearance of being dyspeptic. Mathilde led us through the crowd and said she’d buy us a drink. We asked for white wine, and she said, “They do not cater to your tastes here. It’s either beer or whiskey.” Gala and I looked at each other, weighing the pros and cons of those options. I assumed we would have to take part in conversation, and I wanted to be especially vigilant. We ordered two whiskeys with ginger ale in tall glasses, which makes it one part whiskey, three parts ginger ale. It’s what I call planning ahead.
”
”
Marlowe Granados (Happy Hour)
“
Was Ryan supportive?” “Ryan doesn’t know,” she says. She pulls a bottle of normal Advil out of her bag and fidgets with the childproof cap. “I told him I had food poisoning and really bad period cramps. He was gone for most of it but brought me home a ginger ale after work.” I imagine Sasha, weak, sick, and bleeding in bed, and all I want is to be able to go back in time and take care of her.
”
”
Anna Fitzpatrick (Good Girl)
“
Speakeasy bartenders used fruit juices, sometimes from canned fruit, as well as ginger ale, cream, honey, corn syrup, maple syrup, and even ice cream to make palatable the harsh flavors of spirits that Mencken described as “rye whiskey in which rats have drowned, Bourbon contaminated with arsenic and ptomaines, corn fresh from the still, gin that is three fourths turpentine, and rum rejected as too corrosive by the West Indian embalmers
”
”
Gary Regan (The Joy of Mixology: The Consummate Guide to the Bartender's Craft, Revised & Updated Edition)
“
I know what she sees. My mother smiles into the camera, her auburn hair a fiery halo around her pale face in the winter sun. My stepfather and stepbrother stand at her shoulder, both tall blondes. And then there’s me. My hair cut close to tame the dark curls that can never decide which way to grow. My skin is the color of aged dark honey, and my eyes are gray as slate. I couldn’t look less like a part of the family if I tried. “One of these things is not like the others.” I grin over the rim of my glass, sipping my ginger ale. “I guess I’m gumbo, too.
”
”
Kennedy Ryan (Long Shot (Hoops, #1))
“
can't even sleep through the night without you and those sun-dried ginger ale complected limbs crocheted into my thighs...
”
”
Brandi L. Bates
“
Then I opened up the orange juice and ginger ale and poured some, half and half, over the ice I’d found in the kitchen.
”
”
Alicia Hunter Pace (Scrimmage Gone South (Gone South, #2))
“
punch bowl, which she fills with juice, ginger ale, and a container of rainbow sherbet, and arranges a platter of homemade sand tarts and peanut butter cookies with chocolate kiss centers.
”
”
Elin Hilderbrand (Winter Solstice (Winter Street Book 4))