#drip

If we took Chaucer's writings at face value, we'd have to conclude he was a complete drip. ↗

— John Hutton

#complete #conclude #drip #face #face value

I turned in my seat. Will’s face was in shadow and I couldn’t quite make it out. ‘Just hold on. Just for a minute.’ ‘Are you all right?’ I found my gaze dropping towards his chair, afraid some part of him was pinched, or trapped, that I had got something wrong. ‘I’m fine. I just . . . ’ I could see his pale collar, his dark suit jacket a contrast against it. ‘I don’t want to go in just yet. I just want to sit and not have to think about . . . ’ He swallowed. Even in the half-dark it seemed effortful. ‘I just . . . want to be a man who has been to a concert with a girl in a red dress. Just for a few minutes more.’ I released the door handle. ‘Sure.’ I closed my eyes and lay my head against the headrest, and we sat there together for a while longer, two people lost in remembered music, half hidden in the shadow of a castle on a moonlit hill. ↗

— Jojo Moyes

#paralysed #quadriplegic #music

It was what became something of a pattern in the first couple of years of the Clinton White House and maybe even longer, where information would drip, drip, drip, drip, drip out which would keep stories alive, alive, alive. ↗

— Dee Dee Myers

#became #clinton #couple #drip #even

I still eat a burger at a counter with ketchup dripping down my face. ↗

— Scarlett Johansson

#counter #down #dripping #eat #face