(no subject)
"so over sloe gin fizzes for her which took tiny sweet bites out of maijstral's five-pound note, and beer for benny, they talked of how it was they had come this far and where they would go after valetta, and it seemed there were beaver and the street for them separately to return to; and both agreed this was nowhere, but some of us do go nowhere and can con ourselves into believing it to be somewhere: it is a kind of talent and objections to it are rare but even at that captious."
thomas pynchon, v.