He sat forlorn, feeling as if that most feared enemy of sleep had entered silently on a busy night, the one person whom you must come face to face with someday, who asks you, in the earshot of your oldest customers, to mix a cocktail whose name you have never heard.                        – V.

I’ll be drinking my way through every beverage I find in the pages of Pynchon. This could take a while. Let me know if you spot any I’ve missed!

Anything that can get drunk, he reasoned, must have some soul.  -V.