"I do things like get in a taxi and say, "The library, and step on it."
"The sound of wind had become, for me, silence. When it went away, I was left with the squeak of the blood in my head and the aural glitter of all those little eardrum hairs quivering like a drunk in withdrawal."
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Source: A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace, www.nytimes.com. 1997.
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