alcohol

I wonder if they were aware of the power of complimentary alcohol during World War I.

My mind may be sober, but my confidence is high!

And when he got home he started on Mumma. He hated her then, because in her fatness and untidiness and drabness she reminded him of what he himself was when he was sober.

Millions of deaths would not have happened if it weren__ for the consumption of alcohol. The same can be said about millions of births.

People don't care about being duped as long as they're happy, which is the shortest form of happiness; hence 'self-duprication' becomes a habit.

[I]t is the wine that leads me on,the wild winethat sets the wisest man to singat the top of his lungs,laugh like a fool _ it drives theman to dancing... it eventempts him to blurt out storiesbetter never told.

Take a shower. Wash away every trace of yesterday. Of smells. Of weary skin. Get dressed. Make coffee, windows open, the sun shining through. Hold the cup with two hands and notice that you feel the feeling of warmth.__ You still feel warmth.__ow sit down and get to work. Keep your mind sharp, head on, eyes on the page and if small thoughts of worries fight their ways into your consciousness: threw them off like fires in the night and keep your eyes on the track. Nothing but the task in front of you._Get off your chair in the middle of the day. Put on your shoes and take a long walk on open streets around people. Notice how they__e all walking, in a hurry, or slowly. Smiling, laughing, or eyes straight forward, hurried to get to wherever they__e going. And notice how you__e just one of them. Not more, not less. Find comfort in the way you__e just one in the crowd. Your worries: no more, no less.Go back home. Take the long way just to not pass the liquor store. Don__ buy the cigarettes. Go straight home. Take off your shoes. Wash your hands. Your face. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. It__ still beating. Still fighting. Now get back to work.__ork with your mind sharp and eyes focused and if any thoughts of worries or hate or sadness creep their ways around, shake them off like a runner in the night for you own your mind, and you need to tame it. Focus. Keep it sharp on track, nothing but the task in front of you.Work until your eyes are tired and head is heavy, and keep working even after that. Then take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes.__otice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more.___ou__e doing just fine.__ou__e doing fine.I__ doing just fine.

Not being a man of means, I knew that if I did not stay sober enough to earn money, I would run out of liquor.

Too much fame, money or alcohol can make you stupid

Too much fame, money or alcohol can make you stupid.

Alcohol ruined me financially and morally, broke my heart and the hearts of too many others. Even though it did this to me and it almost killed me and I haven't touched a drop of it in seventeen years, sometimes I wonder if I could get away with drinking some now. I totally subscribe to the notion that alcoholism is a mental illness because thinking like that is clearly insane.

99% of all problems can be solved by money -- and for the other 1% there's alcohol.

Satan," he said, "couldn't undo anything God had done. She could at least try to make existence for His little toys less painful. She could see what He couldn't: To be alive was to be either bored or scared stiff. So she filled an apple with all sorts of ideas that might at least relieve the boredom, such as rules for games with cards and dice, and how to fuck, and recipes for beer and wine and whiskey, and pictures of different plants that were smokeable, and so on. And instructions on how to make music and sing and dance real crazy, real sexy. And how to spout blasphemy when they stubbed their toes."Satan had a serpent give Eve the apple. Eve took a bite and handed it to Adam. Hee took a bite, and then they fucked.

Lucivar winced. "She guzzled half the flask _ and it wasn't one of his home brews, it was the concoction you created."Jaenelle__ eyes widened. __ou let her drink a __ravedigger_?___o no no,_ Wilhelmina said, shaking her head. __ou shouldn__ ever drink a gravedigger until he__ had a bath._ She smiled placidly when Jaenelle and Lucivar just stared at her.__other Night,_ Lucivar muttered.__o you know that song?_ Wilhelmina asked Jaenelle.

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.

Alcohol is one of the quickest vehicles with which we escape shyness, our problems, and self-consciousness, for a few hours.

I spent a lot of money on booze, birds, and fast cars. The rest I just squandered.

My mind feels like a beehive without the buzz.