Drinking Quotes - Page 3

Don't drink too much.""When I can spell out your name in shot glasses, I'll stop.""I'll have to get a shorter name.""I'll have to forget how to spell it.

He was in that stage of love–and of liquor–where one is completely taken up with oneself, and can get along very well without the other party.

When reality and your dreams collide, typically it’s just your alarm clock going off.

Two wives despaired of him,’ he said. ‘When he got engaged to Sylvia, she made it a condition that he should take the cure at Zurich. And it worked. He came back in three months a different man. And he hasn't touched a drop since, even though Sylvia walked out on him.’ ‘Why did she do that?’Well, poor Charlie got rather a bore when he stopped drinking. But that’s not really the point of the story.

They're professionals at this in Russia, so no matter how many Jell-O shots or Jager shooters you might have downed at college mixers, no matter how good a drinker you might think you are, don't forget that the Russians - any Russian - can drink you under the table.

Frankly, I was horrified by life, at what a man had to do simply in order to eat, sleep, and keep himself clothed. So I stayed in bed and drank. When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn't have you by the throat.

There comes a time in every woman's life when the only thing that helps is a glass of champagne.

Too much of anything is bad, but too much Champagne is just right.

I try to convince myself that it's the alcohol talking. But alcohol can't talk. It just sits there. It can't even get itself out of the bottle.

Everybody's got to believe in something. I believe I'll have another beer.

A fine young man and a fine young felly he always was, except that in the old days, before you began coming in here, Mr. Witherwax, he maybe had too much money and spent too much of it on girls. Take them alone, either one; the money without the women, or a good girl without the money that can be a help to a young felly, and he's fixed for life. But put them together; and often as not, the young felly goes on the booze. ("The Better Mousetrap")

Sensible people advise against drinking on an empty stomach, but to my mind it is the best sort of drinking.

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.

Child, you’ve been trying to drown your sorrows for some time now. And the problem with that plan is, you can’t drown sorrows. They’re good swimmers. They’re gonna float back up to the top and be bobbing right where you left them last night.

Kid, I've only known you two days and I've seen you plastered three times." He shook his head. "A bar would not be a good career move for you.

Its funny whenever people who have'nt seen me in years meet up with me again and they are surprised that I'm not as shy and quiet as I was in the past, I credit that to my years of drinking at bars and partys and conversing with people I would never useally talk to, it was then I relized that even without drinking I could still talk to people just as easy. But It is still a little funner with a few beers in me.

To alcohol! The cause of... and solution to... all of life's problems

In vino Veritas. (In wine there is truth.)

There was a tacit understanding between them that 'liquor helped' growing more miserable with every glass one hoped for the moment of relief.

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.

For when the wine is in the wit is out.

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

Do not blame a person for drinking lest he is trying to forget something more serious than drinking.

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.

Beer bottles, whiskey bottles, brown glass, green. They fell to the lawn and I'd feel serene. Adam was king to my stilted queen.

Sometimes, when inspiration runs dry, I drink classical music until my words spill out.

I would not put a thief in my mouth to steal my brains.

There is a great independence, and a confident immunity to risk, in all drinks made out of cactus.

My side felt a lot better when Nora called me at noon the next day. "My nice policeman wants to see you," she said. "How do you feel?""Terrible. I must've gone to bed sober." I pushed Asta out of the way and got up.

All excess is ill but drunkeness is of the worst sort. It spoils health dismounts the mind and unmans men. It reveals secrets is quarrelsome lascivious impudent dangerous and bad.

We look up to see if it is day or night. If stars burn cool and moon does shine, we take to smoke divine and wine. If breath of sun does belch its heat, we boil coffee and prepare to eat.

They talk of my drinking but never my thirst.

While binge drinking is a significant issue, it is likely that many members of the public would be surprised by its categorisation as a mental illness, particularly at the milder end."Public confusion caused by differing understandings of the term 'mental illness'.Jorm AF, Reavley NJ.Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2012 May;46(5):397-9. PMID: 22535288

Not having any drink about ain’t the same as not understanding the need for one. Times like these change a body’s perspective.

When a man who is drinking neat gin starts talking about his mother he is past all argument.

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

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.

I always take Scotch whiskey at night as a preventive of toothache. I have never had the toothache; and what is more, I never intend to have it.

Ale, man, Ale's the stuff to drink,for fellows whom it hurts to think.

The one plentiful herds of magazine writers would continue to be culled - by the Internet, by the recession, by the American public, who would rather watch TV or play video games or electronically inform friends that, like, 'rain sucks!' But there's no app for a bourbon buzz on a warm day in a cool, dark bar. The world will always want a drink.

I think he just loved being with the bears because they didn't make him feel bad. I get it too. When he was with the bears, they didn't care that he was kind of weird, or that he'd gotten into trouble for drinking too much and using drugs(which apparently he did a lot of). They didn't ask him a bunch of stupid questions about how he felt, or why he did what he did. They just let him be who he was.

Becoming a writer is a polite way of saying you've chosen alcoholism as a career.

Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so?There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar.

It's a tradition to drink rakia with snacks. Not like the Russians, you know, who just drink to get drunk. I like a little snack with the news.

Do you drink?""Of course,I just said I was a writer.

I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.

He could see that drinking and conversation were inexorably intertwined and that one did not occur without the other.

Beer's intellectual. What a shame so many idiots drink it.

When I walked into the house, I went in search of one of my dad's bottles. Not that they were that hard to find. He hid bottles all over the house. I knew where they all were. That was one of my hobbies, finding where my dad hid his bottles. It was my version of looking for Easter eggs. In my house, Easter lasted forever.

Here, drink your liqueur," Henry said, tossing back her drink. "I carry it with me everywhere because it's the only kind of drink that Leo doesn't like, so there's a chance I'll still have some tomorrow.

There is no night life in Spain. They stay up late but they get up late. That is not night life. That is delaying the day. Night life is when you get up with a hangover in the morning. Night life is when everybody says what the hell and you do not remember who paid the bill. Night life goes round and round and you look at the wall to make it stop. Night life comes out of a bottle and goes into a jar. If you think how much are the drinks it is not night life.

Why are you drinking? demanded the little prince."So that I may forget," replied the tippler."Forget what?" inquired the little prince, who was already sorry for him."Forget that I am ashamed," the tippler confessed, hanging his head."Ashamed of what?" insisted the little prince, who wanted to help him."Ashamed of drinking!

To have touched the feet of Christ is no excuse for mistakes in punctuation.If a man writes well only when he's drunk, then I'll tell him: Get drunk. And if he says that it's bad for his liver, I'll answer: What's your liver? A dead thing that lives while you live, whereas the poems you write live without while.

The innkeeper loves the drunkard but not for a son-in-law.

Your pony, he said as he stomped toward me. "I'm the farrier who is here to fix your pony.""I thought you were a Hells Angel," I said."I used to be," he replied. "But fighting all the time and being really drunk and nasty got boring. So now I just take care of animals.

Goodness, I was already a dork most of the times. I didn't need to be a drunk or high dork.

That was how Sinner got his first taste of anything other than the froth on his father's ale. It made you grimace, but if you drank enough it felt like discovering an entire hidden room in your own house that you'd never even known about. You wanted to do more than poke your head through the doorway. You wanted to take its dimensions.

He disapproved, he didn't believe in girls drinking, he was full of the conventions of a generation older than himself. Of course one drank oneself, one fornicated, but one didn't lie with a friend's sister, and 'decent' girls were never squiffy.

Usually it`s like this: I sit down and drink with the idea of clarifying just where I am going with my life, and then, after a while, I am unable even to stand on my feet

The rows of empty jugs had multiplied with the speed of caged rabbits.