Where Barmy Harry bartered poems for grog on Central Station I sat down & wept

(Hewett, Dorothy)

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Of all men the drunkard is the foulest. The thief when he is not stealing is like another. The extortioner does not practice in the home. The murderer when he is at home can wash his hands. But the drunkard stinks and vomits in this own bed and dissolves his organs in alcohol.”

― Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls

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