Best 1158 quotes in «alcohol quotes» category

Ich habe Angst vor dieser Erscheinung, aber wenn man viel trinkt, dann geht das schon wieder weg.

I could always tell when my mom drank because the corners of her mouth fell down. Alcohol took her smile. Strange, because I never drank, but it took mine too.

I do not like anis," Pablo said. The acrid smell had carried across the table and he had picked out the one familiar component. "Good," said Robert Jordan. "Because there is very little left." "What drink is that?" the gypsy asked. "A medicine," Robert Jordan said. "Do you want to taste it?" "What is it for?" "For everything," Robert Jordan said. "It cures everything. If you have anything wrong this will cure it.

I don't drink no whiskey but I'm a fool about my home made wine. I stays around Dallas cause I makes it there all the time

I don't like to overdose. Call me old-fashioned.

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

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

I drown myself in liquids of all kind Pour me another fiery glass of wine Volcanoes flash before my eyes I fear the love I left behind

I dye my jeans jet black once a week, but they never seem dark enough. I bleach my hair bright white twice a month but it never seems light enough. I drink two and a half bottles of champagne every night but I never seem drunk enough. And I know I’m not high enough until someone grabs my face to check my vision to see if I’m still responsive— And even then, I’m thinking to myself that I should probably do one more line, you know, just to be safe.

I drink because I wish to multiply my sufferings.

If drinking alcohol gives people Dutch courage, then drinking coffee gives me Dutch energy.

If God want to really help anyone, He will cause him or her to know and understand what vanity is early in life.

If I could bottle this exact feeling I have right now, and sell it, I'd make millions." I said to Chet "Well, unfortunately for you, but luckily for every other adult, someone already has. They called it alcohol.

If you abandon your two glasses of wine, it is to show your children, your friends, and your society that your life is not only for yourself. Your life is for your ancestors, future generations, and also your society. To stop drinking two glasses of wine every week is a very deep practice, even if it has not brought you any harm. That is the insight of a bodhisattva who knows that everything she does is done for all her ancestors and future generations... In modern life, people think that their body belongs to them and they can do anything they want to it... This is one of the manifestations of individualism. But, according to the teaching of emptiness, your body is not yours. Your body belongs to your ancestors, your parents, and future generations. It also belongs to society and to all other living beings. All of them have come together to bring about the presence of this body--the trees, clouds, everything. Keeping your body healthy is to express gratitude to the whole cosmos, to all ancestors, and also not to betray the future generations," (64-65).

If you don't like wine, don't prohibit those who love wine. Alcohol, we know, is very powerful. Use, but do not abuse it. And by no means condemn the totality. By doing that you deny God, since He has created all the things that should be enjoyed by human beings without excess. In drinking moderately, you taste and know what it is. In drinking to the point of drunkenness, you revert and become uncivilised. If you don't drink at all you lose something from earth. But if you impede this enjoyment you are just as criminal as the one who kills by taking the life of the individual. You take away pleasure and freedom, and this action I call criminal tyranny. You force the honest one to cheat, the truthful one to lie, and the sober one to become a drunkard.

If you drink anymore, you're going to be positively flammable.

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

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

I had never been a dresser. My shirts were all faded and shrunken, 5 or 6 years old, threadbare. My pants the same. I hated department stores, I hated the clerks, they acted so superior, they seemed to know the secret of life, they had a confidence I didn't possess. My shoes were always broken down and old, I disliked shoe stores too. I never purchased anything until it was completely unusable, and that included automobiles. It wasn't a matter of thrift, I just couldn't bear to be a buyer needing a seller, seller being so handsome and aloof and superior. Besides, it all took time, time when you could just be laying around and drinking.

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

I have heard Silvius, an excellent physician of Paris, say that lest the digestive faculties of the stomach should grow idle, it were not amiss once a month to rouse them by this excess, and to spur them lest they should grow dull and rusty; and one author tells us that the Persians used to consult about their most important affairs after being well warmed with wine.

I lay in bed that night, a first-time drunkard at seven years of age, pondering the punishment I knew would arrive on callused palms. In the forest, as if sensing my plight, wolves howled nocturnal laments. The magnificent lunar lullabies of my lupine brethren wooed me into a deep and cleansing sleep.

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

In the remote towns of the west there are few of the amenities of civilization; there is no sewerage, there are no hospitals, rarely a doctor; the food is dreary and flavourless from long carrying, the water is bad; electricity is for the few who can afford their own plant, roads are mostly non-existent; there are no theatres, no picture shows and few dance halls; and the people are saved from stark insanity by the one strong principle of progress that is ingrained for a thousand miles east, north, south and west of the Dead Heart - the beer is always cold.

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

I shall always attribute my uncertain start in New Zealand to the fact that I was introduced too early to what is knows as the 'five o'clock swill'. The phrase has, when you consider it, a wonderful pastoral - one might almost say idyllic - ring to it. It conjures up a picture of fat but hungry porcines, all freshly scrubbed, eagerly and gratefully partaking of their warm mash from the horny but kindly hands of the jovial farmer, a twinkling eyed son of the soil. Nothing could be further from the truth. The five o'clock swill is the direct result of New Zealand's imbecilic licensing laws. In order to prevent people getting drunk the pubs close at six, just after the workers leave work. This means they have to leave their place of employment, rush frantically to the nearest pub, and make a desperate attempt to drink as much beer as they can in the shortest possible time. As a means of cutting down drunkenness, this is quite one of the most illogical deterrents I have come across.

Isn't it obvious in in today's world from people's preoccupation with self-medication, drug and alcohol use, rationalization and avoidance distraction that the truth doesn't just hurt, it's extremely painful.

I soaked up the drink and it, in return, absorbed me.

I started smoking cannabis and drinking alcohol for the same reason I would sometimes tell self aggrandizing lies; I was wanting in courage. The only intimacy I could find was through drinking, smoking, lying and taking short cuts. A good brain needs the courage to maintain it's health, and if you don't have courage, you fall prey to a type of intimacy that gradually degrades not only the brain, but it degrades the meaning of friendship.

Issues are like tissues. You pull one out and another appears!

I started to drink heavily, comfortably caught in the tentacle-like clutches of alcohol.

I stopped rowing for a moment to glug down some water, but it was warm, tasted of plastic, and failed to refresh. I yearned for an ice-cold drink—preferably one with bubbles and alcohol in it.

It almost never takes a pleasant state of mind to desire to be high or drunk.

It began to falter not when the book publishers who loved books gave way to those who preferred profits to reading. It happened when publishers and editors cut back on their drinking. If there is one national flower in book publishing, it is the martini.

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

I think fear neutralizes alcohol, weakens its anesthetic power. It's good for small fears; your boss, your wife, your bills, your dentist; all right then to take a drink. But for big ones it doesn't do any good. Like water on blazing gasoline, it will only quicken and compound it. It takes sand, in the literal and the slang sense, to smother the bonfire that is fear. And if you're out of sand, then you must burn up. ("New York Blues")

I think that it is a great tragedy that a child can lose their mother, father, sister or brother, because you and I made a decision that getting loaded was more important than they are.

It is ethanol that everyone is after when they drink alcoholic beverages. That is what gives us the euphoric feeling, and that is what all vendors of alcoholic drinks are selling.

It is only after the intellect collapses that any true communication exists.

It is sad that people need alcohol to make them happy.

It is the return of a dog to his vomit.

It might be in a saloon with jingled townsmen, or with a genial railroad man well lighted up and armed with pocket flasks, or with a bunch of alki stiffs in a hang-out. Yes; and it might be in a prohibition state...

I took a breath. Pictured the bed waiting for me upstairs. Then retreated to the lobby bar alone and ordered an ice-cold gin martini, a small signal to myself that my work was done. I held the glass, its inverted construction an insult to gravity and the order of things. Just like our Movement, from the outside the balance of power seems all wrong. But hold a martini glass in your hand and you know instinctively that it is just right.

I took another draught and my mouth was awash again in a riptide of bitter, bubbly, CO2 eruptions and the fruity splash of malted barley. What a sensation! I wasn't sure if I liked it at first, but by bottle's end I was a dedicated fan.

It's meant I will act like less of an asshole, but feel much more like one.

It starts raining harder, I've got a long way to go walking and pushing that sore leg right along in the gathering rain, no chance no intention whatever of hailing a cab, the whiskey and the Morphine have made me unruffled by the sickness of the poison in my heart.

I've found, though, that people are more likely to share their personal experiences if you go first, so that's why I always keep an eleven-point list of what went wrong in my childhood to share with them. Also I usually crack open a bottle of tequila to share with them, because alcohol makes me less nervous, and also because I'm from the South, and in Texas we offer drinks to strangers even when we're waiting in line at the liquor store. In Texas we call that '_southern hospitality_.' The people who own the liquor store call it 'shoplifting.' Probably because they're Yankees. I'm not allowed to go back to that liquor store.

I've heard many recovering alcoholics say they've never found a church quite like Alcoholics Anonymous. They've never found a community of people so honest with one another about their pain, so united in their shared brokenness.

I want a new liver to replace my heart." "Um, why?" "Because then I could drink more and care less.