Jonathan Whitelaw

“I’m not on social media,” he said. “Mostly because all that stuff scares me.” (…) “You speak a different language on there,” he said. “One false move and you’re toast, from what I understand. One joke, one comment in the wrong place, one misinterpreted little moment and there’s a pile on – you’re ‘canceled’, is it?” (…) “It’s the court of public opinion and there’s no jury, no judge. I don’t trust myself to not make mischief, purely accidentally. That’s why I stay away from it all.”

– If that’s not the best coffee you’ve ever had, then you’re a liar, boy.
Jason took a tentative sip. It was glorious. His tongue was set on fire, not only by the temperature but from the richness and glory of the divine brew he was drinking.

(...) he'd seen far too many good men and women in his profession go the way of the drink. Wasted talent was one thing, loosing it all for the sake of booze was a completely different matter. An avoidable matter, at that.

Tony is not a believer in luck; he’s a believer in hard work. If you fail to prepare, you prepare to fail. An old English teacher of his had once told him that, and he’d never forget.

The only thing worse than being out of work was being told how to get another job.