Mahindra Thar improve quality of off-roading and state of mind. Soon you will be addicted to adventure for no particular reason.

Sometimes I thought about my liver but my liver never spoke up, it never said, “Stop it, you’re killing me and I’m going to kill you!” If we had talking livers we wouldn’t need A.A.

I’m addicted to the way I feel when I think of you.

“I think I need a drink.”
“Almost everybody does only they don’t know it.”
“I know it.”

one day Manuel returned to the place, and
she was gone –
no argument, no note, just
gone, all her clothes
all her stuff, and
Manuel sat by the window and looked out
and didn’t make his job
the next day or the
next day or
the day after, he
didn’t phone in, he
lost his job, got a
ticket for parking, smoked
four hundred and sixty cigarettes, got
picked up for common drunk, bailed
out, went
to court and pleaded
guilty.

when the rent was up he
moved from Beacon street, he
left the cat and went to live with
his brother and
they’d get drunk
every night
and talk about how
terrible
life was.

Manuel never again smoked
long slim cigars
because Shirley always said
how
handsome he looked
when he did.

They simply couldn’t tell me that they didn’t have a cigarette. They had to give me their pitch, their religion: cigarettes were for cubes. They were going to Malibu, to some seeming loose and easy shack in Malibu and burn a bit of grass. They remind me, in a sense, of old ladies standing on a corner selling “The Watchtower.” The whole LSD, STP, marijuana, heroin, hashish, prescription cough medicine crowd suffers from the “Watchtower” itch: you gotta be with us, man, or you’re out, you’re dead. This pitch is a continual and seeming MUST with those who use the stuff. It’s no wonder they keep getting busted – they can’t use the stuff quietly for their pleasure; they have to make it KNOWN that they are members.

“she shoots up in the neck,” she told
me. I told her to stick it into my
ass and she tried and said, “oh oh,”
and I said, “what the hell’s the matter?”
she said, “nothing, this is New York
style,” and she jammed it in again and said,
“oh shit.” I took it and put it into
my arm, I got part of it.
“I don’t know why people
fuck with the stuff, there’s not that
much to it. I think they’re all losers
and they want to lose real bad. there’s
no other way, it’s like they can’t
get where they’re going or want to go
and there’s no other way.
this has got to be it.
she shoots up in the neck.”

There’s no way I can stop writing, it’s a form of insanity.

she was consumed by 3 simple things:
drink, despair, loneliness; and 2 more:
youth and beauty.

I didn’t like candies at all, but when I tasted your lips, I became addicted to sweets because your lips are the yummiest thing in

Everybody has an addiction mine happens to be you.

Falling in love with you was never my intention. But it became my addiction.

Your lips got me addicted to sweets. Sex with you is like gold—you can never have enough.

Social media is gaining knowledge, expressing, reading & sharing views. Also is addictive, may cause insomnia and damages our lifestyle.

I’m a Jeepaholoic.

Driving is like an addiction; once you start, it’s hard to stop.

I’m an insomniacaholic
if there is such a thing
well, I know there is —
I am one, and their king!

I am addicted to Jeeps. The way I drive and the way they handle is a perfect combination.