alcohol

To a drinker the sensation is real and pure and akin to something spiritual: you seek; in the bottle, you find.

Fill with mingled cream and amber, I will drain that glass again.Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chamber of my brain __uaintest thoughts _ queerest fancies Come to life and fade away;What care I how time advances? I am drinking ale today.

I feel like today should be a perfect Meatball day... Let's just get wastey-pants!

When my grandmother comes to dinner at our house she always carries her own jar of Turner__ Special Blend. She knows how much she needs and doesn__ want to be caught short. My brother remembers her at Christmas one year, an especially weepy time for her, when she put her hands around his neck and murmured, My little angel, you wouldn__ be so hard to kill. And though he knew it was only the whiskey talking, he also knew that the whiskey talked daily.

I have never seen anyone drink like he did. To say he drank with a vengeance is almost understating it: it was almost as if there was a thirst there, a deep and insatiable craving that made the man keep going back for more and more until he sat down in one corner with a bottle.

The mistake we make is in thinking rape isn__ premeditated, that it happens by accident somehow, that you__e drunk and you run into a girl who__ also drunk and half-asleep on a bench and you sidle up to her and things get out of hand and before you know it, you__e being accused of something you__ never do. But men who rape are men who watch for the signs of who they believe they can rape. Rape culture isn__ a natural occurrence; it thrives thanks to the dedicated attention given to women in order to take away their security. Rapists exist on a spectrum, and maybe this attentive version is the most dangerous type: women are so used to being watched that we don__ notice when someone__ watching us for the worst reason imaginable. They have a plan long before we even get to the bar to order our first drink.

You're walking down Fool's Street, Laura used to say when he was drinking, and she had been right. He had known even then that she was right, but knowing had made no difference; he had simply laughed at her fears and gone on walking down it, till finally he had stumbled and fell. Then, for a long time, he stayed away, and if he had stayed away long enough he would have been all right; but one night he began walking down it again - and met the girl. It was inevitable that on Fool's Street there should be women as well as wine.He had walked down it many times in many different towns, and now he was walking down it once again in yet another town. Fool's Street never changed, no matter where you went, and this one was no different from the others. The same skeletonic signs bled beer names in vacant windows; the same winos sat in doorways nursing muscatel; the same drunk tank awaited you when at last your reeling footsteps failed. And if the sky was darker than usual, it was only because of the rain which had begun falling early that morning and been falling steadily ever since.

One more drink and I'll be under the host.

Let me tell you something you probably already know. It's that second cork that should remain in the neck of the bottle. You can liberate 1, but two bottles of wine for 2 people is 1 bottle too many. There was a reason the French bottled wine the way they did. 2 and a half glasses was plenty of wine for 2 people to consume with dinner. But that's not how it went with us.

A strong drink can numb the soul as good as any prayer

I don't have a drinking problem 'Cept when I can't get a drink.

Need 'nether 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")

A drink centers me but I usually make myself wait until at least 9:00 PM for that. Or 8:00 PM. Whichever comes first.

I once heard someone say that the concept of moderation seems a little extreme, and tonight...I agree.

The two of them together in a place like Retribution Falls would result in alcoholic carnage, sure as bird shit on statues.

You know that movie, where the little boy says 'I see dead people'?The Sixth Sense.Well, I see them all the time, and I'm getting tired of it. That's what's ruined my mood. Here it is, almost Christmas, and I didn't even think about putting up a tree, because I'm still seeing the autopsy lab in my head. I'm still smelling it on my hands. I come home on a day like this, after two postmortems, and I can't think about cooking dinner. I can't even look at a piece of meat without thinking of muscle fibers. All I can deal with is a cocktail. And then I pour the drink and smell the alcohol, and suddenly there I am, back in the lab. Alcohol, formalin, they both have that same sharp smell.

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

Gin and tonics won't say "I love you" and neither will he.