Sin The worst part is failing to kiss the ground each morning. Or the cold pot of resentment stirred and simmered well into the evening. Everything else comes from this, grows. It wouldn't be so bad if such immense portions of good fortune weren't squandered each hour, minutes the long dead would ransom eternity to regain. Even now, ripe apples lie rotting casually about the floor, single bites taken from each - there is no worm, no snake . . . only this failure to praise. - Dane Cervine
Whisky River is one of my daily must reads. So many gems here that can really make your day.