Scotch And Wry Quotes

I take many things seriously. Rudyard Kipling, Harper Lee, Oscar Wilde, and Elmore Leonard are all held in the highest regard. I am dead serious when I discuss the many reasons that Ernest Hemingway’s greatest contribution to literature was his generous decision to take his own life. I will not be sucked into a discussion of politics by people who prefer emotion to reason. The designated hitter is an abomination, and the day pitchers and catchers report is the start of the new year despite what those ill-informed calendar makers might try to tell you.” “I

Now where's this artist?" His eyes darted around the room, landed on Gennie and clung. She thought she saw surprise, quickly veiled, then amusement as quickly suppressed, tug at the corners of his mouth. "Daniel MacGregor," Grant said with wry formality. "Genvieve Grandeau." A flicker of recognition ran across Daniel's face before he rose to his rather amazing height and held out his hand. "Welcome." Gennie's hand was clasped, then enveloped. She had simultaneous impressions of strength, compassion, and stubbornness. "You have a magnificent home, Mr. MacGregor," she said, studying him candidly. "It suits you." He gave a great bellow of a laugh that might have shook the windows. "Aye.And three if your paintings hang in the west wing." His eyes slid briefly to Grant's before they came back to hers. "You carry your age well, lass." She gave him a puzzled look as Grant choked over his Scotch. "Thank you." "Get the artist a drink," he ordered, then gestured for her to sit in the chair next to his. "Now, tell me why you're wasting your time with a Campbell." "Gennie happens to be a cousin of mine," Justin said mildly as he sat on the sofa beside his son. "On the aristocratic French side." "A cousin." Daniel's eys sharpened, then an expression that could only be described as cunning pleasure spread over his face. "Aye,we like to keep things in the family. Grandeau-a good strong name.You've the look of a queen, with a bit of sorceress thrown in." "That was meant as a compliment," Serena told her as she handed Gennie a vermouth in crystal. "So I've been told." Gennie sent Grant an easy look over the rim of her glass. "One of my ancestors had an-encounter with a gypsy resulting in twins." "Gennie has a pirate in her family tree as well," Justin put in. Daniel nooded in approval. "Strong blood. The Campbells need all the help they can get." "Watch it,MacGregor," Shelby warned as Grant gave him a brief, fulminating look.

Jeff and Amy were part of this, though never in the sense that the natives were. They were not indigenous: they were outlanders, ‘foreigners,’ distinguished by a sort of upcountry cosmopolitan glaze which permitted them to mingle but not merge. Even their drinking habits set them apart. Deltans drank only corn and Coca-Cola; gin was perfume, scotch had a burnt-stick taste. They would watch with wry expressions while Amy blended her weird concoctions, pink ladies and Collinses and whiskey sours, and those who tried one, finally persuaded, would sip and shudder and set the glass aside: “Thanks”—mildly outraged, smirking—“I’ll stick to burrbon.

I bet this is how Bill Cosby gets drunk,” and handed one to Fiona. Cheryl

There had always been a part of him that suspected this day might come. How long can one be miserable before it loses its appeal? The first day wasn’t the problem, but he knew there was a fair amount of unpleasantness coming if he should choose to ignore the wishes of his mind and body. They would likely retaliate. He

I will not be sucked into a discussion of politics by people who prefer emotion to reason. The

Harsh would have been to point out that these dregs of social media really were the reason their parents divorced and have likely caused global warming by exhaling C02. They should die.” Wen

I laughed, I cried, I lost several IQ points...which is upsetting because I tend to prefer to spend those on drink.” “Whatever.

You are allowed one stupid question per day, and that was it.

I hope Toni takes her Nobel Prize, melts it down, and fashions a club for beating the stupid out of the attendees. Or at the very least, goes squirrel monkey on them.”   Arthur

When one is using a hashtag, is #StickUpAss spelled with two spaces or none?” She

The door opened, and four, old, white men in dark suits spilled into the outer office. Their mood was dour with a hint of bourbon and entitlement.

We can hardly disappoint them, can we?” “I think you’ll find that I am more than qualified to disappoint them.

If I had a child and had to choose, well, there would be one more orphan.

I’m not a rocket scientist; I’m not even a rocket enthusiast,

Quoth the kitty, “Meow.” “I

Was that a compliment?” “It was not. It was a carefully considered analysis. I don’t do compliments, nor do I eat peas or tolerate fruit in Jello.” “Fruit in Jello?” “It is an abomination, and people who wed two wonderful things into such an unholy union should be killed.” “You’re quite a mess, aren’t you?” “Yes. Your point?

Not all who are alone are lonely, and not all who are together are loved.

What was I saying? I was waxing poetic and working toward pretentious, if I recall. Oh, yes, the smell of a fine, fall football Saturday. Spring is such a girl. She gets credit for love, hope, renewal, and the dream of what might be. Summer is all, ‘Hey dude, it’s warm; let’s party.’ It’s truly the fraternity brother of the four seasons. Fall, to me, seems like the bad-ass who is about to hop on his Harley and drive off into the sunset because he’s not going to listen to that bitch winter go on and on about how nobody likes her and the snow drifts make her look fat.

(I hate that Microsoft Word won’t recognize ‘google’ as a verb. Stupid squiggly lines of judgment. I digress.)

I laughed, I cried, I lost several IQ points...which is upsetting because I tend to prefer to spend those on drink.