Best 1841 quotes in «drinking quotes» category

If I am this capable of loving an alcoholic so much, imagine how awesome I could be at loving myself.

If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.

If I only drink beer, nothing stronger, then by the end of the night I can generally recognize myself as a reasonable human being, and more importantly, wake up that way.

If I show up on your doorstep don't worry I'm just there to party.

If my liver cared enough, it would have told me to stop. - Jonathan "Jack" McVoy

I found that old Solomon proved it fair, That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care.

If we'd done this my way,' Garrett went on, 'We'd have been here much earlier.' 'And drunk, most likely,' said Maiev. 'You say "drunk," I say "happy",' Garrett shrugged.

if you are always drinking, you should probably never drive

Ignorance is a lot like alcohol: the more you have of it, the less you are able to see its effect on you.

If you want to keep your dignity intact, stay away from tequila.

If you do not create your source, you will spend your life drinking from the source of others.

If you see the dragon fly, best you drink the flagon dry.” —Zarost

I guess I forgot we were going out tonight." "We always go out on Fridays." "It's Thursday, Alvis." "You are so tied to routine.

I had been out with Maeve, drinking too much, something I have a tendency to do when my unhappiness spills over--usually at major Christian festivals, I have discovered.

I had finally begun to understand Seth’s relationship with his flask, how some days, the memories grew too heavy to bear.

I had drunk myself to oblivion, Stepped from the room into a dreamless slumber, My consciousness had parted ways, Taking a well-earned vacation.

I have a question. Is it okay to drink while you're pregnant...if you're planning on giving the baby up for adoption?

I knew what Charley would do. He would spend the evening drinking himself into the mindset of a cinder block. If they had given him as much as a hundred bucks, it would be a long night.

I have nothing to do each day, but write, drink, and run out of money.

I know an alcoholic is the worse, but sometimes I wonder if it's better to have a drinking father that lives at home, or a drinking father, that never comes around.

I know now it is children who accept life; grown people cover it up and pretend it is different with drinks.

Imagine the big rating agencies as three competitive saloons standing side by side, with each free to set its own drinking age. Before long, nine-year-olds would be downing bourbon

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 looked at mother with adoration in my own eyes, and when she had taken the kerosene lamp and had gone away, and when we boys were all again curled quietly like sleeping puppies in the bed, I cried a little, as I am sure father must have cried sometimes when there was no one about. Perhaps his getting drunk, as he did on all possible occasions, was a way of crying too.

Il vino buono si beve solo d'estate, quando si deve fare molto lavoro: si porta sul campo per pranzo o quando si ha bisogno di energia. (la dieta di un contadino mantovano nel 1870)

I'm a person who is unpractical and idealistic. A rebellious dreamer plagued by night terrors. An affinity for the story of Superman, drinking, sex, jazz, writing, drugs, activism, golf, family, cooking, eating good food, reading books and savoring their hypnotic bouquet, for me, is like stumbling over a rock and recovering my equilibrium. This is the story of me.

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 mean, you know how it is. You chase a bottle of sleeping pills with a bottle of Jack Daniel's and life's never the same, no matter how many times you try to tell people it was just an accident.

I like bars just after they open for the evening. When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny and the barkeep is giving himself that last look in the mirror to see if his tie is straight and his hair is smooth. I like the neat bottles on the bar back and the lovely shining glasses and the anticipation. I like to watch the man mix the first one of the evening and put it down on a crisp mat and put the little folded napkin beside it. I like to taste it slowly. The first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar—that's wonderful.

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.

Imbattersi un bel giorno, per caso, in un’oca disorientata rompeva la monotonia della zuppa fredda, della carne in scatola e del pane del giorno prima – il vino, invece, non era più un problema giacché ora veniva generosamente distribuito dall’intendenza insieme all’acquavite nella convinzione, tenacemente alimentato dallo Stato maggiore, che ubriacare il soldato contribuisca ad accrescerne il coraggio e, soprattutto, offuschi in lui la consapevolezza della sua condizione.

I'm going out for a bottle of champagne. We're going to get bombed.

I'm more than a few neurons shy of a synapse right now, and it feels absolutely fan-fucking-tastic.

I’m only doing one more,” Ruby said, scrolling through her phone. “Nobody likes a day-drunk hussie.” “Hey, give yourself some credit. You’ll be a really cute day- drunk hussie.

I mostly drink clear booze because the rest of it looks it's already been through a gentleman.

In every glass of water we drink there are molecules once urinated by Genghis Khan

I need a drink. Now.” After tossing—fine, throwing—my purse and keys on the couch, I march straight into the kitchen. No more delays; it's time to forget tonight. It’s been yet another night like all the other first dates that never meet a second one. When you begin to lose count, that's when it's really time for a drink. Adrian stands there, leaning against the counter in an unbuttoned dress shirt and dark wash jeans. He glances at me as I walk in. “How was your date?” he asks, taking a swig of his scotch. I brush past him on my mission, opening the cupboard and moving a couple bottles around. I reiterate, “I need alcohol.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him hiding a smile before he says, “That bad?” My face twitches as I ignore his line of questioning. It is more like a statement he wants me to clarify, even though he already knows the answer. Instead, I ask, “I have vodka left, don't I?” I stand on my tiptoes in hopes of spotting something in the very back. Nothing. He waltzes over and looks with me, his chin almost touching my shoulder. “I think you polished that one off after last week's date.” His voice is low right next to my ear, very nearly causing a shiver.

In the fall he picked up his phone one afternoon to hear Grandma Lynn. 'Jack,' my grandmother announced, 'I am thinking of coming to stay.' My father was silent, but the line was riddled with his hesitation. 'I would like to make myself available to you and the children. I've been knocking around in this mausoleum long enough.' 'Lynn, we're just beginning to start over again,' he stammered. Still, he couldn't depend on Nate's mother to watch Buckley forever. Four months after my mother left, her temporary absence was beginning to take on the feel of permanence. My grandmother insisted. I watched her resist the remaining slug of vodka in her glass. 'I will contain my drinking until'- she thought hard here- 'after five o'clock, and,' she said,' what the hell, I'll stop altogether if you should find it necessary.' 'Do you know what you're saying?' My grandmother felt a clarity from her phone hand down to her pump-encased feet. 'Yes, I do. I think' It was only after he got off the phone that he let himself wonder, Where will we PUT her? It was obvious to everyone. ~pgs 213-214; Grandma Lynn and Jack;

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")

Intoxication, like sexual euphoria, is the privilege of the human animal.

Intoxication, like sexual euphoria, is the privilege of the human animal. Sexual frenzy is our compensation for the tedious moments we must suffer in the passage of life. “Nothing in excess” professed the ancient Greeks. Why, if I spend half the month in healthy scholarship and pleasant sleep, shouldn’t I be allowed the other half to howl at the moon and pillage the groins of Europe’s great beauties?

Is it that we pretend to a reformation? Truly, no: but it may be we are more addicted to Venus than our fathers were. They are two exercises that thwart and hinder one another in their vigor. Lechery weakens our stomach on the one side; and on the other sobriety renders us more spruce and amorous for the exercise of love.

In wine was truth, perhaps, but in whisky, the way Hoffman sluiced it down, was an army of imaginary rats climbing your legs.

I peer through the spectral, polluted, nicotine-sodden windows of my sock at these old lollopers in their kiddie gear. Go home, I say. Go home, lie down, and eat lots of potatoes. I had three handjobs yesterday. None was easy. Sometimes you really have to buckle down to it, as you do with all forms of exercise. It's simply a question of willpower. Anyone who's got the balls to stand there and tell me that a handjob isn't exercise just doesn't know what he's talking about. I almost had a heart-attack during number three. I take all kinds of other exercise too. I walk up and down the stairs. I climb into cabs and restaurant booths. I hike to the Butcher's Arms and the London Apprentice. I cough a lot. I throw up pretty frequently, which really takes it out of you. I sneeze, and hit the tub and the can. I get in and out of bed, often several times a day.

I really hate that I need my glasses while using my laptop. What I hate even more is that I need those glasses to be full of vodka at all times. -Karen Quan and Jarod Kintz

I slept and the night rolled over into day like a dog. Another post-meridian awakening - sunshine on empty bottles, tangled clothes. I dozed while the temperature rose.

Is this the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending With all these nights we're spending Up on the roof with a school girl crush Drinking beer out of plastic cups You say you fancy me not fancy stuff. All at once this is enough.

I shook myself out of these dreams. There were places where my thoughts must not go; and as I then reflected how few places were left where they could now go without incurring pain or guilt I decided that I needed some more whisky.

It doesn’t occur to me that alcohol might be unhinging me, that drinking at the rate I am can induce depression, impulsive behaviour, and symptoms of bipolar and borderline personality disorder.

it does seem the more we drink the better the words go.