Best 797 quotes in «drunk quotes» category

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

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

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 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.

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 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.

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.

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

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’m not a bad person.

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

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

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.

...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 understood drinking to be the gasoline of all adventure.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

Midnight, drunk, we laid. I mumbled secrets— I kept from entire world. You kept laughing at me— the way dawn laughs at dark.

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.

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.

Men don’t get drunk from a really good wine but from a beautiful woman. -Red White Love: The Love of Liverpool FC

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," she said. "Such a nice escort, Mr. Cobb. So attentive. You should see him sober. I should see him sober. Somebody should 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.

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.

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

Muscat is like a mind-altering drug. A stroll in its streets is like getting drunk for the first time

My sister is running away to get lost, but I am running away because I want to find something. And my parents love me so much that they want to help me. Yeah, Dad is a drunk and Mom is an ex-drunk, but they don't want their kids to be drunks.

Natives of the Florida Keys often refer to themselves as Conchs, and for good reason: They have been drinking.

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")

(Nicholas)"Am I dead?" An odd question, but then she rememberd her mourning attire. "No sir, you are not." He relaxed a moment, then turned his head slightly as if searching for other passengers. His brows dived in a scowl. Am I married?" She wasn't sure how to answer. His kid gloves hid any evidence of his matrimonial state, but his expression of instantaneous alarm and regret suggested he was referring specifically to her. No sir, we are not.

No more blurry memories of nights with strangers but still alone... I’d had enough of homeless travelling just to feed my art and I wanted stability and comfort; a calm sense of existence. I wanted a friend, a hand to hold, arms to fall asleep in.

Nonsense. Hardly touched a drop. That much.” She held out two fingers to show how tiny an amount “that much” was. “Just went to a party,” said Richard, “and saw Jessica and saw a real angel and got a little black pig and came back here.” “Just a little drink,” continued Door, intently. “Old, old, drink. Tiiiiny little drink. Very small. Almost not there.” She began to hiccup.

Nothing bonds two solitary individuals like a good shared drunk. This is a scientific fact. It’s important, even necessary for the long-term welfare of the planet to get good and shit-faced with your neighbor every now and then.

Not poor? How can you sit there and say that with a straight face? Why I remember your momma told my momma once that your daddy got drunk and spent his paycheck and you had to pick up beer bottles alongside the road for lunch money and you had holes in the bottoms of your shoes. You had to line them with newspapers. If that ain’t poor, I sure don’t know what is.

Not only too much wine makes you drunk, but too much beauty too!

Oh Abby...I want you to know...I am so full of shit. You should not listen to me. I know nothing.

Oh, I’m Chrissy Mackenzie, I’m from Vancouver but I came here to study environmental journalism,” the girl exclaimed with way too much enthusiasm. “You got any advice?” “Search me,” Mandy muttered, spooning another ice cube from the empty glass on the table in front of her. “I like pollution, I write in favor of it, and environmental journalism most often implies that it’s in favor of all that “go green” hippie crap.” “Oh, well….” Chrissy seemed taken aback, offended, and Mandy sighed a fourth time. “Damn it, I’m really sorry,” she apologized, smiling dismally at the aspiring writer. “It’s just been a really lousy day for me and I wasn’t really thinking. My advice? Find your own cause to represent, not one thrown out into society by a ton of environmentalist dopes. Find something new, something you think could be improved, and work from there.” Chrissy smiled with a look of total ecstasy as if the words of some nobody woman were important. Mandy momentarily noticed the groups of laughing, drunk, giggling people, all acting childish… and for a moment she wished she could be them.

Oh, no, nope, shoot. Are we about to human mate?

Oh you dear companions Electric bells of the stations song of the reapers Butcher's sleigh regiment of unnumbered streets Cavalry of bridges nights livid with alcohol The cities I've seen lived like mad women (The Voyager)

Ok.. So are you goin’a let him bluetube your tweeter?

One day, you will say it to me again. You will be sober. And you will mean it.” I was actually terrified that I already meant it. A guy might just be a keeper who hears your cry for help in his head. And comes into a den of thieves to get you out. And then holds your hair while you throw up for ten minutes.