Jessabean

“At Wauchope there’s a Big Bull,” he added. I raised my eyebrows in a way that said, “Oh, yes?” He nodded fondly. “Its testicles swing in the breeze.” “It has testicles?” I said, impressed. “I’ll say. If they fell on you, you wouldn’t get up in a hurry.” We took an extended moment to savor this image. “It would make an interesting insurance claim, I suppose,” I observed at last. “Yeah!” He liked this idea, too. “Or a newspaper headline: ‘Man crushed by falling bollocks.’” “By falling bullock’s bollocks,” I offered. “Yeah!” We”
― Bill Bryson, In a Sunburned Country

“I ordered a pint of Cooper’s Draught and retired with it to a table overlooking the square. And there I sat for a good few minutes doing nothing at all, not even touching my glass, just savoring the pleasure of sitting down and finding myself in a far country with a glass of beer and cricket on the TV and a roomful of people enjoying the fruits of a prosperous age. I could not have been happier. After”
― Bill Bryson, In a Sunburned Country

“Tolstoi made the writing of Stephen Crane on the Civil War seem like the brilliant imagining of a sick boy who had never seen war but had only read the battles and chronicles and seen the Brady”
― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition

“An Australian fly will try to suck the moisture off your eyeball. He will, if not constantly turned back, go into parts of your ears that a Q-tip can only dream about. He will happily die for the glory of taking a tiny dump on your tongue. Get thirty or forty of them dancing around you in the same way and madness will shortly follow. And”
― Bill Bryson, In a Sunburned Country