Your resolutions: Exit your flop era, resolve all conflicts that riddle your relationships, purchase a disco ball for your bedroom

Breakfast when they return is at the little kitchen table where Max has eaten thousands of meals, and every morning, without fail, the old man slides a ripped-off chunk of toast and a piece of banana to the dog at his feet, precisely the behavior experts at Guiding Eyes for the Blind had warned against because it can turn a service dog into a food hound who noses along restaurant tabletops in search of left-behinds.

[T]he small Apples which I have often observ'd to grow on the leaves of an Oak call'd Oak-apples […] are nothing but the Matrices of an Insect, as I elsewhere show.

He didn't manage to authenticate the portrait: it's probably a fake.