alcohol

Everyone is drinking. She can feel them out there drinking, turning into beasts.

I believe in 'Positives' not Negatives the only thing about Alcohol I'm Powerless over is those Damn Taxes

It was baking hot in the square when we came out after lunch with our bags and the rod-case to go to Burguete. People were on top of the bus, and others were climbing up a ladder. Bill went up and Robert sat beside Bill to save a place for me, and I went back in the hotel to get a couple of bottles of wine to take with us. When I came out the bus was crowded. Men and women were sitting on all the baggage and boxes on top, and the women all had their fans going in the sun. It certainly was hot. Robert climbed down and fitted into the place he had saved on the one wooden seat that ran across the top. Robert Cohn stood in the shade of the arcade waiting for us to start. A Basque with a big leather wine-bag in his lap lay across the top of the bus in front of our seat, leaning back against our legs. He offered the wine-skin to Bill and to me, and when I tipped it up to drink he imitated the sound of a klaxon motor-horn so well and so suddenly that spilled some of the wine, and everybody laughed. He apologized and made me take another drink. He made the klaxon again a little later, and it fooled me the second time. He was very good at it. The Basques liked it. The man next to Bill was talking to him in Spanish and Bill was not getting it, so he offered the man one of the bottles of wine. The man waved it away. He said it was too hot and he had drunk too much at lunch. When Bill offered the bottle the second time he took a long drink, and then the bottle went all over that part of the bus. Every one took a drink very politely, and then they made us cork it up and put it away. They all wanted us to drink from their leather wine-bottles. They were peasants going up into the hills.

Afternoon drinkers shifted in the gloom as if they sensed new blood.

I cannot trust my other side, my drunken side, to act in my best interests anymore.

Alcohol is good for killing microbes. It does mean that it also kills macrobes (human).

Nothing bonds two solitary individuals like a good shared drunk. This is a scientific fact. It__ important, even necessary for the long-term welfare of the planet to get good and shit-faced with your neighbor every now and then.

You are dehydrated," I said. "The result of alcohol taken in excess. But that is the only way to take it. It is the only way to do a man any good.

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

He had probably been thrown out of a wine shop, and it hadn't quite dawned on him yet.

Champagne arrived in flûtes on trays, and we emptied them with gladness in our hearts_ for when feasts are laid and classical music is played, where champagne is drunk once the sun has sunk and the season of summer is alive in spicy bloom, and beautiful women fill the room, and are generous with laughter and smiles_ these things fill men__ hearts with joy and remind one that life__ bounty is not always fleeting but can be captured, and enjoyed. It is in writing about this scene that I relive this night in my soul.

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__referably one with bubbles and alcohol in it.

When you are young your body cannot handle alcohol, and when you get old your mind cannot handle it. Either way, alcohol has its way.

I drink because I wish to multiply my sufferings.

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.

There was a kindliness about intoxication - there was that indescribable gloss and glamour it gave, like the memories of ephemeral and faded evenings.

Alcohol lowered inhibitions. It didn't create impulses that weren't there.

the forecast for tonight is alcohol, low standards, and poor decisions.