Drinking Quotes - Page 5

I mulled over what he had told me as I savored the Scotch. Not bad, really — like a beer that’s been in a brawl.

Free drinks have no carbs.

It's a long time between drinks.

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

Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you're allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It's like killing yourself, and then you're reborn. I guess I've lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.

A traditional Englishman drinks tea to the point where his blood has long-since been replaced with an infusion of Ceylon, Assam, and Darjeeling.

Sublime is something you choke on after a shot of tequila.

Whenever the devil harasses you, seek the company of men or drink more, or joke and talk nonsense, or do some other merry thing. Sometimes we must drink more, sport, recreate ourselves, and even sin a little to spite the devil, so that we leave him no place for troubling our consciences with trifles. We are conquered if we try too conscientiously not to sin at all. So when the devil says to you: do not drink, answer him: I will drink, and right freely, just because you tell me not to.

Water is the only drink for a wise man.

The bubbly play of wit, the chesty laughs, the resonant voices of men when glass in hand they shut the grey world outside and prod their brains with the fun and folly of an accelerated pulse.

It comes in pints?

The social prestige of wine at table and at the club must be destroyed through lofty example and polite ridicule; forces which are not always available, and for whose successful operation much time will be required. But the outstanding fact remains, that the world has come to regard liquor in a new and clearer light. Our next generation of poets will contain but few Anacreons, for the thinking element of mankind has robbed the flowing bowl of its fancied virtues and fictitious beauties. The grape, so long permitted to masquerade as the inspirer of wit and art, is now revealed as the mother of ruin and death. The wolf at last stands divested of its sheep’s clothing.

... while we are familiar with the adverse effect of drink on an empty stomach, we are now witnessing the far worse effect of drink on an empty mind.

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.

The fruit of youth or of the grape, the transitory magic of the brief passage from darkness to darkness - the old illusion that truth and beauty were in some way entwined.

Gin and whisky cost so much more. Oblivion and courage could no longer be purchased for the price of an old song.

...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.

They sell courage of a sort in the taverns. And another sort, though not for sale, a man can find in the confessional. Try the alehouses and the churches, Hugh. In either a man can be quiet and think.

He only drinks when he gets depressed,' said Carrot. 'Why does he get depressed?' 'Sometimes it's because he hasn't had a drink.

We were not a hugging people. In terms of emotional comfort it was our belief that no amount of physical contact could match the healing powers of a well made cocktail.

The group’s laughter echoed off the stained, plaster ceiling. I raised my beer, but before I clinked the bottles together, I challenged him. “You think you’re a man I won’t forget?”“Ah’m nae any man ye’ve met before.”“Praise be,” I smirked, “the others haven’t been worth spit.”Then the whiskey came, and I was taken by the tawny light, forgetting to worry about my ‘crazy’. Until Angus’ efforts at gilding my heart, called my ‘alter’ to the fore.

I went out with a guy who once told me I didn’t need to drink to make myself more fun to be around. I told him, I’m drinking so that you’re more fun to be around.

Why did everyone send casseroles in times of crisis? Why didn't anyone ever send brownies and Jack Daniel's?

Mulled ale for the frozen man,And mulled ale for the weary:For mulled ale is the body's friendAnd makes the sick heart merry.

It's too warm for red wine; now I mix gin and tonics instead. I find they make the ordinary sensation of living lighter, less ruffled.

The habit of using ardent spirits by men in office has occasioned more injury to the public and more trouble to me than all other causes. Were I to commence my administration again the first question I would ask respecting a candidate for office would be Does he use ardent spirits?

Ô, wine!, the truth-serum so potent that all those who wish to live happy lives should abstain from drinking it entirely!... except of course when they are alone.

Abstinence is as easy for me as temperance would be difficult.

Think of me as an impetuous Hegel, drunk with power, and also, regular drunk.

Nancy Astor: "Winston, you are a drunk!"Winston Churchill: "And you, madam, are ugly. But I shall be sober in the morning."(Reported exchange will Winston Churchill.

Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy.

Elliot Rawley was a drinker, Cy’s mother had been right. And he was a poor drinker. One that let the demons of the bottle into his head when he tipped it back, demons that went about unloosing all the trouble they could find stashed in the catacombs of his mind. Every tragic thing that had ever happened, every self-doubt, every delusion, freed itself from bondage and revisited him when he drank.

The more I drink the better I write and the more I write the better I drink.

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.

You never know what the vodka will bring,” I laughed.“Oh, like the time you caught my hair on fire at the candlelight party in Mel’s basement! That was the craziest thing that I ever had happen to me. If you hadn’t switched to water, I would have been bald!”-Cora, Nessa

The no-booze rule is one of several shams perpetuated by certain religious groups, presumably to keep their flocks in line. After all, what’s a shepherd to do with drunk sheep? So take your medicine, but leave the booze on the shelf. We have a label to keep, and it’s not Jack Daniels. Don’t mourn for me. Just tell me what to do rather than teach me what to be. Slam another pill, pop that one last sedative…you’ll find me in the kitchen, washing my glass.

War and drink are the two things man is never too poor to buy.

A sober heart conceals, what a drunken mouth reveals, or in your case, a drunken body and lips.

I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed but all I could do was to get drunk again.

Taking my drink, I moved around the bar to her. Her smile was a little crooked as I sat down. I guessed it had been a wet night for platinum blondes.

There are only two moments when everything is possible in this life," said Petrus, "when one drinks, and when one makes up stories.

I understood drinking to be the gasoline of all adventure.

Sam groaned. A warmth on her face alerted her to the new morning. She opened one eye and peered at the fuzzy daylight streaming in through the window. Her head throbbed like a bitch. Her mouth felt like a carpet. She pushed herself off the couch and stood up shakily, kicking bottles as she stumbled to her small kitchen. Every movement was painful and slow. She was a sloth tight-roping through time. She held onto the basin for a moment to steady herself. She grabbed a plastic cup and opened the tap, letting it flow as she filled and refilled it, gulping down as much water as she could. She splashed her face, neck and chest with water, then refilled the cup and dumped the contents over her head. She stood there, unaware of the moments passing by, as the water dripped down her body. Willing herself to wake up and feel better. Willing the nausea into oblivion.

Camels can go many weeks without drinking anything at all. The notion that they cache water in their humps is pure myth—their humps are made of fat, and water is stored in their body tissues. While other mammals draw water from bloodstreams when faced with dehydration, leading to death by volume shock, camels tap the water in their tissues, keeping their blood volume stable. Though this reduces the camel’s bulk, they can lose up to a third of their body weight with no ill effects, which they can replace astonishingly quickly, as they are able to drink up to forty gallons in a single watering.” (pp.69-70)

We were still twirling around the tiny parking lot when the neighborsscreamed 'Happy New Year'. Unfortunately we weren't sober enough torealize that was our cue to call it a night. Josh had a new beer in his hands,Danny was eating the last hot dog and Darren and I were still dancingwhen the cops showed up.

I am a drinker with writing problems.

I cook with wine, sometimes I even add it to the food.

Smoking does not make one ill, but worrying makes. Drinking two pegs in the evening would not make you ill, but sleeping with tensions and worries would definitely do that.

I drink much less than most people think, and I think much more than most people would believe.

You can learn a lot about a woman by getting smashed with her.

Partying and dancing have never been my thing, but drinking I could do with reasonable familiarity and skills. I decided to begin there.

The writer walks out of his workroom in a daze. He wants a drink. He needs it. It happens to be a fact that nearly every writer of fiction in the world drinks more whisky than is good for him. He does it to give himself faith hope and courage. A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul and that I am sure is why he does it.

Whisky drowns some troubles and floats a lot more.

Parents drinking is the reason you came into the world, and if we didn't keep doing it then, by God, it would be the reason you went back out of it.

Don't drive a car in the dream, else you won't drive it on earth. Don't wish to become, else you won't become. Don't associate with fools, else your ancestors will be insulted. Don't be addicted to wine, else your pocket will be empty. Don't be drunk, else you'll be attacked.

There is something about gin, the tang in it of the deep wildwood, perhaps, that always makes me think of twilight and mists and dead maidens. Tonight it tinkled in my mouth like secret laughter.

Alcohol let's us go on a journey. It's like paying for a ride. It maybe a ride to nowhere, but at least we get to go on that ride that we paid for. And no journey is the same. We wake up next day, usually with memory loss, usually with regret at something we did or said. But we know, we got our money's worth.

People are crazy about food, smoking, drinking, girls but not about their dreams.

Scotch whisky is made from barley and the morning dew on angel's nipples.

More wine for me, pour me some more!" t"You smart girl, I knew you're a smart girl, just teasing...” tFaces turn red, the dark earth blood is rising. tThey wink at Pelka, wink at the host: "He knows his goods!" The women feel the buttons constricting them - they undo one, another, a third. By twos the guests go outside to get some air.t"Well, my dear guests, are you soaked to the gills? Eh? And now-to dance! Get lively!"tThe table and the chairs vanish. The middle of the room is empty. Ivan the Monk jumps out of his hole, a tambourine in his hands: "Tim-ta-a-am! Tim-ta-a-am!"t“Eh-hey!" the redhead suddenly snatches the tambourine and sweeps off, tapping wildly in a circle. Eyes closed: a white sleepless sun-a white night on the meadow-white columns of smoke swaying over fires...t"Eh-ah!"-to whirl herself to death, to whirl out everything, to empty herself - nothing has ever been...tHeavy boots are thumping on the floor, beards fly in the wind, the frock-coat tails go flying... hey, get going, faster, faster - a hundred versts an hour! ("The North")