In wine was truth, perhaps, but in whisky, the way Hoffman sluiced it down, was an army of imaginary rats climbing your legs.
Pour alcohol on a bundle of nerves and it generally turns into a can of worms.
Some men spend their lives looking for ways to punish themselves for having been born.
The sea was surging among the pilings like the blithe mindless forces of dissolution.
He was half a politician, and like most of his kind he was an insecure man.
