Best 797 quotes in «drunk quotes» category

I didn't want to be DRUNK. IN. PUBLIC. I wanted to be drunk in a BAR. I was THROWN. into. public.

I don't drink to make others look better, I just drink to make myself feel prettier.

I don’t know how these things died without benefit of a bullet to the brain pan. They seemed to exist in an eternal twilight of longing.

I don't need alcohol to see the world in its depths, I carry the sun in me. - On Being Inebriated.

I don't remember things. I black out and I can't remember where I've been or what I've done. Sometimes I wonder if I've done or said terrible things, and I can't remember. And if...if someone tells me something I've done, it doesn't even feel like me. it doesn't feel like it was me who was doing that thing. And it's so hard to feel responsible for something you don't remember. So I never feel bad enough. i feel bad, but the thing that i've done --it's removed from me. It's like it doesn't belong to me.

I drank because it was lovely and I needed a calm to understand the reality.

I feel wonderful and sad. It's the gin.

I felt a lunatic’s laugh welling up inside me.

I forgave everybody, I gave up, I got drunk.

I had a wakefulness that I could not shake, and I was still drunk.

If you get drunk today ask yourself why you never got drunk yesterday, and if you got drunk yesterday ask yourself today why you got drunk yesterday. Drunkenness is bad when it affects someone’s life in a bad way.

If you want to get drunk, get drunk with love.

If you’d saved the girl, you’d be a hero. Next time.

I have become intoxicated again. You are such a potent wine, my friend. To escape your withdrawal effects, tomorrow I will drink in excess. Alas, why make me love? I was aware, conscious, and sensible before. I am ill by cause of this illusion. The devil plays tricks on me more and more. I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will. Your score, the nightingale song within notes composed to imprison and bear me wings. Oh, if only they could hear how it sings! I am now beyond parched. My strings left untouched. You are no longer an oasis, my friend, but a mirage soon coming to an end.

I have drunk the night and swallowed the stars. I am dancing with abandon and singing with rapture. There is not a thing I do not love. There is not a person I have not forgiven. I feel a universe of love. I feel a universe of light. Tonight, I am with old friends and we are returning home. The moon is our witness.

I have met drunken ladies during my travels, it is okay until they vomit all over you!

I have memories from my time in high altitude astronomy of being euphoric and giddy after discharging large amounts of industrial gas into the indoor environment. The effects would last hours and resembled being drunk and intoxicated.

I like dogs better than men and cats better than dogs and myself best of all, drunk in my underwear looking out the window.

I heard them tearing at it. It was the sound of mortality.

I knew then I was going to die in the street without ever seeing Holly again. All because I tried to help an old woman, proving for all eternity that no good deed goes unpunished.

I'll show you an imaginative re-creation, my fist imaginatively re-creating your fucken face for starters.

I made a considerable dent in the bourbon reserves of three bars. Maybe I couldn’t quite walk a straight line after that, but I was still thinking up a storm and getting nowhere. I switched to Calvert’s the way the ads tell you, with no better results. I thought maybe if I got in touch with Doc Kincaid and asked him for a list of people who had answered his questions I’d be able to find out if the killer had broken his code. It seemed like a fine idea, but I wasn’t buying any of that, either. It was the professional way to go about things and it might bring results in a month or two or twenty, but I didn’t have the time. I’d drink myself into an alcoholic ward long before that. But Tad Barrett might like the idea and might be able to do more about it with a whole staff of trained operatives. Jason Chase, you are a genius. You must drink to this brilliant idea. You must. You will. But the barman shook his head. “What do you mean, I’ve had enough?” “I mean, I don’t think you ought to take another. Not here.” “That’s ridiculous, my good sir.

Inside my soul a treasure is buried. The key is mine and only mine. How right you are, you drunken monster! I know: the truth is in the wine. ("The Unknown Lady")

I make no excuse for what happened. Drunkenness is never more than a symptom, not an absolute cause, and I realize that it would be wrong of me to try to defend myself. Nevertheless, there is at least the possibility of an explanation.

I mean, that's at least in part why I ingested chemical waste - it was a kind of desire to abbreviate myself. To present the CliffNotes of the emotional me, as opposed to the twelve-column read. I used to refer to my drug use as putting the monster in the box. I wanted to be less, so I took more - simple as that. Anyway, I eventually decided that the reason Dr. Stone had told me I was hypomanic was that he wanted to put me on medication instead of actually treating me. So I did the only rational thing I could do in the face of such as insult - I stopped talking to Stone, flew back to New York, and married Paul Simon a week later.

I’m not a bad person.

I'm sorry, but why does Claire know how to take a punch? I'm not sure I like where this is going," Carter said nervously. "Well, last year Jim made us watch Fight Club for like, the ten- thousandth time. And while I’m all for a little shirtless Brad Pitt action, Claire and I decided to take a shot every time Edward Norton talked in third person. By about twenty minutes in, we were trashed. I don't know whose idea it was, but Claire and I started our own fight club in the living room," Liz explained. "It was your idea, Liz. You stood up in front of me, lifted your shirt and said "Punch me in the stomach as hard as you can, fucker.

I'm done peeing now." "Thank you for letting me know.

It made me giddy. It made me blush, worse than before. It was like liquor. It made me drunk. I drew away. When her breath came now upon my mouth, it came very cold. My mouth was wet, from hers. I said, in a whisper, 'Do you feel it?

I still remember the first day I met her. She was drunk with love and drenched in pain. The moment I hugged her I said myself, I shall heal her completely someday. But in the process of searching her, it was she who found me. And it was she who healed me.

I thought if I loved you enough I could change you. I was so stupid.

It doesn’t matter if she wanted it or not. No self-respecting man would offer something like that to a girl, especially one that’s drunk.

It is however good when people get drunk. When they drink miyet with happy hearts. It is however good when mouths shout for joy.

I understood drinking to be the gasoline of all adventure.

It's sad, the thought that everyone I know is so repressed, they have to get, like, oh my God, totally wasted to have an excuse to act the way they want to act.

I turned to her, my whole body hard with tiredness and regret.

It’s not about winning, it’s about doing what’s right. And yes, we will do what’s right.

...it was not considered right for a man not to drink, although drink was a dangerous thing. On the contrary, not to drink would have been thought a mark of cowardice and of incapacity for self-control. A man was expected even to get drunk if necessary, and to keep his tongue and his temper no matter how much he drank. The strong character would only become more cautious and more silent under the influence of drink; the weak man would immediately show his weakness. I am told the curious fact that in the English army at the present day officers are expected to act very much after the teaching of the old Norse poet; a man is expected to be able on occasion to drink a considerable amount of wine or spirits without showing the effects of it, either in his conduct or in his speech. "Drink thy share of mead; speak fair or not at all" - that was the old text, and a very sensible one in its way.

I wanted to see the bullet coming, wanted to know the exact moment of my death.

I was a spectator who had gotten free admission to a freak show.

I want you to want me when you’re sober. Drunk people have a way of walking into trash mostly.

I was sprawled out in my usual position on the couch, half asleep but entirely drunk, torturing myself by tearing memories out of my mind at random like matches from a book, striking them one at a time and drowsily setting myself on fire.

I was in the mood to make out in the back row of the movie theater with someone who did not know my first name. I wanted three guys to fight for the honor of buying me a drink

I was hoping that the first time you expressed affection for me, it would not be in a room full of strangers. And that you would not have just said it to a sniveling creature like that Raymond!” “I expressed affection for Ray?” “Yes!” “Man, I really must be drunk.” Louis-Cesare just looked at me. I blinked politely back, until I realized that he expected a response.

Need 'nother whiskey. Whiskey chaser. Gotta get two men drunk." Mr. Cohan placed both hands on the bar. "Mr. Walsh," he said severely, "in Gavagan's we will serve a man a drink to wet his whistle, or even because his old woman has pasted him with a dornick, but a drink to get drunk with I do not sell. Now I'm telling you you've had enough for tonight, and in the morning you'll be thanking me..." ("My Brother's Keeper")

Lovecraft says he knows about tentacles but that motherfucker never bedded a girl from West Chester and survived She was a toothache that one and she tasted like crack the best thing about her was if I was ever hungry I could always make a meal out of whatever was making rest at the corners of her mouth I can't remember her name as is the case with most of them then again I can't remember how many donuts I ate this morning or how many beers I'll drink tonight, tomorrow

Make me drunk. Make me drunk, Beloved. I crave your drink. Break these thought chains and tear these garments. I crave your nakedness. I’m speaking to you. I’m speaking to you, Beloved Take me to the depths of your ocean. I’m thirsting for your drink. I have followed the scent of your intoxicating perfume and having arrived at this altar, I sacrifice my body for your soul. Oh Beloved, make me drunk. Make me drunk!

May my pain remain drunk singing its own love songs.

Millions of deaths would not have happened if it weren’t for the consumption of alcohol. The same can be said about millions of births.

Mr Cobb was my escort. Such a nice escort, Mr Cobb. So attentive. You should see him sober. I should see him sober. Somebody should see him sober. I mean, just for the record. So it could become a part of history, that brief flashing moment, soon buried in time, but never forgotten - when Larry Cobb was sober.