A brick could be used to describe somebody hard and inflexible, and a blanket could be used to describe somebody warm and easygoing.
A brick represents a single unit, weak and useless alone, but useful and powerful when organized and grouped with other bricks. So it is with man.
Do I mind losing? No, because losses and wins are just the bricks on the path to success. Both losing and winning are needed to find prosperity.
A blanket could be used as a tablecloth, and a brick left as a tip.
My name is Mr. Brickton, and this brick, it weighs a ton.
I shit bricks, because I’m a constructive pooper.
Blankets could be used to stop exponential population growth. If we kept the people warm, maybe they wouldn’t try to heat themselves up through continual fornication.
A brick could used to translate and transform long cuneiform texts into shorter tweets. Sure, just take the brick and smash the clay tablets, and each broken fragment should be roughly 140 characters.
A brick could be used to communicate with the dead. I just spoke to Stalin, and he’s very pleased with the way America’s progressing, collectively, as a country.
A brick could be used as a response when the cops ask you if you murdered your mother-in-law. Forget yes or no. Well, forget yes altogether, but use brick for every response except one: What object did you use to carry out the killing?
A brick could be used like ice cream. But hold up, hold up. Let me put a bowl under it before you start licking, or else you’ll drip brick all over my blanket.
