I attended the bedside of a friend who was dying in a Dublin hospital. She lived her last hours in a public ward with a television blaring out a football match, all but drowning our final conversation.
No, my friend. We are lunatics from the hospital up the highway, psycho-ceramics, the cracked pots of mankind. Would you like me to decipher a Rorschach for you?
Friend, you're HOPELESSLY hooked!
A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.
El peuperismo es el hospital del ejército del trabajo