Best 797 quotes in «drunk quotes» category

Having drunk the dregs of Your Love, I am intoxicated beyond recognition. Now, I only pray for the nearness of You so I may advance in my annihilation.

He came of a race of drinkers who look contemptuously upon an alcoholic content of twelve percent, unaware that the fermented grape works its enchantments more subtly than the distilled spirits of grain. I do not imply that he was drunk; let us say, rather, that the Tears of Christ opened his heart.

He had suddenly felt that wealth, and power, and life - all that people arrange and preserve with such care - all this, if it is worth anything, is only so because of the pleasure with which one can abandon it all. It was that feeling on account of which a volunteer recruit drinks up his last kopeck, a man on a drunken binge smashes mirrors and windows without any apparent reason and knowing it will cost him his last penny; that feeling on account of which a man does (in the banal sense) insane things, as if testing his personal power and strength, claiming the presence of a higher judgement over life, which stands outside human conventions.

Her boozy breath was day-old, but of quality of Origin. Malt whisky, Carl guessed. The air was so thick with it, an expert would probably be able to determine the vintage.

He really is a cunt ay the first order. Nae about that. The big problem is, he's a mate na aw. Whit kin ye dae?

Her voice was small and distant, like she’d already left the room.

He snuffles. Oh, no. He's not going to cry, is he? Because even though it's sweet when guys cry, I am so not prepared for this. Girl scouts didn't teach me what to do with emotionally unstable drunk boys.

He took a breath, then proclaimed, 'Lady Shaselle of Hytanica, I am in love with you.' I burst into laughter, pulling my legs up to ease my aching stomach muscles. He rolled onto his side to look at me, propping his head up with his hand. 'I'm serious,' he insisted, grinning foolishly at me. 'You're drunk.' 'True, but even drunks can be in love.

Het wonder is geschied, mijn pruim is nat en 't regent niet.

He was so drunk that he would have stubbornly denied that he was.

High cunts are a big fuckin drag when yir feeling like this, because thir too busy enjoying their high tae notice or gie a fuck about your suffering. Whereas the piss-held in the pub wants every cunt tae git as ootay it as he is, the real junky (as opposed tae the casual user who wants a partner-in-crime) doesnae gie a fuck aboot anybody else.

His eyes were like two wafers of slate, grey and lifeless.

I am still drunk that you were here, and you were mine. And once again I stretch my hand out for that wine; As your drunk eyes could not bestir themselves, I too Can’t move; as you love wine, I love the wine that’s you;

Hit the bottom and get back up; or hit the bottle and stay down.

How many beers do y'all think it takes before one internationally scientist turns to another and says, 'Dude, bet you twenty bucks I can levitate a frog with a magnet?' ' Sam drawled.

How very like you, Puck.” Ash’s voice came from a great distance, and the room started to spin. “Offer them a taste of faery wine, and act surprised when they’re consumed by it.” That struck me as hilarious, and I broke into hysterical giggles. And once I began, I couldn’t stop. I laughed until I was gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face. My feet itched and my skin crawled. I needed to move, to do something. I tried standing up, wanting to spin and dance, but the room tilted violently and I fell, still shrieking with laughter. Somebody caught me, scooping me off my feet and into their arms. I smelled frost and winter, and heard an exasperated sigh from somewhere above my head. “What are you doing, Ash?” I heard someone ask. A familiar voice, though I couldn’t think of his name, or why he sounded so suspicious. “I’m taking her back to her room.” The person above me sounded wonderfully calm and deep. I sighed and settled into his arms. “She’ll have to sleep off the effects of the fruit. We’ll likely be here another day because of your idiocy.” The other voice said something garbled and unintelligible. I was suddenly too sleepy and light-headed to care. Relaxing against the mysterious person’s chest, I fell into a heady sleep.

I am clumsy, drop glasses and get drunk on Monday afternoons. I read Seneca and can recite Shakespeare by heart, but I mess up the laundry, don’t answer my phone and blame the world when something goes wrong. I think I have a dream, but most of the days I’m still sleeping. The grass is cut. It smells like strawberries. Today I finished four books and cleaned my drawers. Do you believe in a God? Can I tell you about Icarus? How he flew too close to the sun? I want to make coming home your favourite part of the day. I want to leave tiny little words lingering in your mind, on nights when you’re far away and can’t sleep. I want to make everything around us beautiful; make small things mean a little more. Make you feel a little more. A little better, a little lighter. The coffee is warm, this cup is yours. I want to be someone you can’t live without. I want to be someone you can’t live without.

I am sitting here, staring at the dark sky and drunk with memories. laughing like a maniac while crying an ocean. Somewhere it feels like somebody is kissing my lips passionately. While they are continuously pushing a knife, deep into my chest.

How did you hurt your side?" she asked. I let the air out of my lungs, relieved. "While I was distracted by the table, the chair snuck up on me." Erin looked at me with her head tilted to the side and gave me a dubious expression like she was watching the I.Q. points falling out of my ears. I laughed, which hurt, and said, "I'm just stupid clumsy. It was embarrassing. Like I was trying to dance with the furniture but the furniture was drunk.

How to look after your very drunk friend Step 1: Find her in the bathroom, slumped against the towel rack Step 2: Ask her if she needs to be sick. Try not to get offended when she yells that she's NOT DRUNK Step 3: Tell her it's fine when she apologises, bursts into tears and then falls asleep on your shoulder. [...] Step 6: Root around in her front pocket for her keys. Make a joke about inappropriate touching. Laugh when she earnestly tells you that you could touch her anywhere, because nothing's inappropriate when you're best friends. Step 7: Write it down so you can mock her with it tomorrow, and for the rest of time. Step 8: Tell her mother that yes, you both had a great time. Pour two glasses of water, carry them both up the stairs (Make her go first, so you can catch her if she trips)

I came in several times and spoke, but perhaps you were asleep when I thought you were awake.' 'You are very considerate to explain it this way,' Sugreeva said, 'but I was drunk

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

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 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.

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

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

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

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.

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 want to get drunk, get drunk with love.

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

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 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'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 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'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.

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

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.

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")