You walk in and there’s someone behind a table who will help you get something off the shelf to ease your troubles and change your point of view: libraries are bars for your brain.
I was able to fit the Chaucer’s Mead in the pantry, but the Sam Adams had to move to the garage. You know, for consistency.
According to the restraining order, St. Patrick must stay at least one month away from St. Valentine.
And that’s why I need my morning tea: I’m looking for my brain.
“I know only that I know nothing,” said Socrates. Ominously.