Quotes about drunk

98% of the things said by a drunk man are true 98% of those said by a horny man aren’t.

The worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk they are sober.

Glancing at the bottle of tequila in Tate’s hand, Logan questioned much more calmly than he felt, “How full was that?”Tate lifted the quarter-empty bottle and shrugged. “Unopened. Why?

I was hoping that the first time you expressed affection for me, it would not be in a room full of strangers. And that you would not have just said it to a sniveling creature like that Raymond!” “I expressed affection for Ray?” “Yes!” “Man, I really must be drunk.” Louis-Cesare just looked at me. I blinked politely back, until I realized that he expected a response.

That wasn’t so bad,” I decided, after downing the shot. Maybe I was getting my rhythm. “Because you threw it over your shoulder,” Scarface told me, looking smug. “Did not.” I looked behind me, only to see an outraged vamp with fey wine dripping down his face. “Oops.” “It was for luck,” Ray said defensively, wrapping both my hands around a glass. “Drink!” I drank.

And why was I sitting on the curb? I honestly didn’t know, but it was better than being inside my apartment, all alone. And yeah, I was alone out here, but it didn’t feel that way. I was pretty sure there was a squirrel over by the tree, so that counted for something, right?

There were, however, a few exceptions.One was Norma Dodsworth, the poet, who had not unpleasantly drunk but had been sensible enough to pass out before any violent action proved necessary. He had been deposited, not very gently, on the lawn, where it was hoped that a hyena would give him a rude awakening. For all practical purposes he could, therefore, be regarded as absent.

I came in several times and spoke, but perhaps you were asleep when I thought you were awake.''You are very considerate to explain it this way,' Sugreeva said, 'but I was drunk

Close your eyes and turn your face into the wind.Feel it sweep along your skin in an invisible ocean of exult

What's so unpleasant about being drunk?""Ask a glass of water!

When love intoxicates your heart, it is difficult for your soul to remain sober.

You can't just make me different and then leave

You can’t get the blood out.

(Nicholas)"Am I dead?"An odd question, but then she rememberd her mourning attire. "No sir, you are not."He relaxed a moment, then turned his head slightly as if searching for other passengers. His brows dived in a scowl.Am I married?"She wasn't sure how to answer. His kid gloves hid any evidence of his matrimonial state, but his expression of instantaneous alarm and regret suggested he was referring specifically to her. No sir, we are not.

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

excuse my enthusiasm or rather madness, for I am really drunk with intellectual vision whenever I take a pencil or graver into my hand.

I am not collarbones or drunken letters never sent. I am not the way I leave or left or didn’t know how to handle anything,at any time,and I am not your fault.

One sip of this wine and you will go mad with drunkenness. You will drop your masks and tear your clothes — destroying everything that separates you from the Lover. Once you taste the fruit of this vine, you will be kicked out of the city of yourself. You will forget the world. You will forget yourself. I tell you: you will become a madman who wanders the streets looking for the Lover once you drink this Wine of Love.

Having drunk the dregs of Your Love, I am intoxicated beyond recognition. Now, I only pray for the nearness of You so I may advance in my annihilation.

The lover drinksand the cup-bearer pours.The lover thinksbut the cup-bearer knows:love begets love.Since this wine is love,then this cup is love,then this tavern is love,then this life is love.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters...But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.

You can be drunk on wine.You can be drunk on success.I'm just drunk on the success of my wine.

Getting drunk with success and sick with ambition only leads to one route destruction!

Needy people are like newborns, I have come to realize. One intoxicated night and BAM! You are stuck with this problem. You finally take it home and it wants to keep you up all night and cries when it isn’t sucking on various parts of your anatomy. It wants you there for everything – rocking, feeding, burping, changing... It’s ridiculous. If I wanted a kid I would have one. Until then, grow the hell up and stand on your own two feet, you little crazy.

Each of us is aware he's a material being, subject to the laws of physiology and physics, and that the strength of all our emotions combined cannot counteract those laws. It can only hate them. The eternal belief of lovers and poets in the power of love which is more enduring that death, the finis vitae sed non amoris that has pursued us through the centuries is a lie. But this lie is not ridiculous, it's simply futile. To be a clock on the other hand, measuring the passage of time, one that is

A man's true character comes out when he's drunk.

Well enough,” I reply. “Remember, you’re drunk. And happy. You’re supposed to be lusting over your escort. Try smiling a little more.” like I’m lusting? This is me, lusting.” His lashes flutter at me. better.

I thought about the days i had handed over to a bottle..the nights i can't remember..the mornings i slept thru..all the time spent running from myself.

You know,” she said dreamily, passing over his question, “you’re not nearly as handsome as Lord St.Vincent.”“There’s a surprise,” he said dryly.“But for some reason,” she continued, “I never want to kiss him the way I do you.” It was a good thing that she had closed her eyes, for if she had seen his expression, she might not have continued. “There is something about you that makes me feel terribly wicked. You make me want to do shocking things. Maybe it’s because you’re so proper. Your necktie i

since i will not send this, i also feel it is my duty to inform you that almost six months on I think I still love you and that makes me sad becaue love shouldn’t feel this way. is like getting kicked in the stomach every time i think of you and it makes me want to roll my face across this keyboardbiu;///ubEWdcfhugiov’byhi;.//////-=‘-0i9juh8ygtfdcsaazs34defg7uefg7u8hi9o0p8hi9o0p-[[09ju8dcsaazs34d9o0p-[[09.

Save your explanations, I got some questions for you first and you'd better answer them!' [slurred Hellian.] 'With what?' [Banaschar] sneered. 'Explanations?' 'No. Answers. There's a difference-' 'Really? How? What difference?' 'Explanations are what people use when they need to lie. Y'can always tell those,'cause those don't explain nothing and then they look at you like they just cleared things up when really they did the opposite and they know it and you know it and they know you know and you

So I am not a broken heart. I am not the weight I lost or miles or ran and I am not the way I slept on my doorstep under the bare sky in smell of tears and whiskey because my apartment was empty and if I were to be this empty I wanted something solid to sleep on. Like concrete. I am not this year and I am not your fault.I am muscles building cells, a little every day, because they broke that day,but bones are stronger once they heal and I am smiling to the bus driver and replacing my groceries o

I am not a broken heart. I am not collarbones or drunken letters never sent. I am not the way I leave or left or didn’t know how to handle anything,at any time,and I am not your fault.

And in the end, we were all just humans.. drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.

There are hours for rest, and hours for wakefulness; nights for sobriety and nights for drunkenness—(if only so that possession of the former allows us to discern the latter when we have it; for sad as it is, no human body can be happily drunk all the time).

Love me like Saturday night, like three glasses of champagne, like the room is spinning, like you're drunk on my love.

We all look for happiness, but without knowing where to find it: like drunkards who look for their house, knowing dimly that they have one

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.

Am I making something worth while?I’m not sure.I write and I sing and I hear words from time to time about my life and choices making ways, into other lives, other hearts,but am I making something worth while?I’m not sure.There was a boy last night who I never spoke to because I was too drunk and still shy, but mostly lonely, and I couldn’t find anything lightly to say,so I simply walked awaybut still wondered what he did with his lifebecause he didn’t even speak to meor look at mebut still made

I skipped between the dancers, twirling my skirts. The seated, masked musicians didn’t look up at me as I leaped before them, dancing in place. No chains, no boundaries—just me and the music, dancing and dancing. I wasn’t faerie, but I was a part of this earth, and the earth was a part of me, and I would be content to dance upon it for the rest of my life.One of the musicians looked up from his fiddling, and I halted.Sweat gleamed on the strong column of his neck as he rested his chin upon the d

After all, as Franco would dictate, everyone was going to lose their money at some point. You may as well do so half drunk and at the mercy of a pretty smile.

Oh, I’m Chrissy Mackenzie, I’m from Vancouver but I came here to study environmental journalism,” the girl exclaimed with way too much enthusiasm. “You got any advice?”“Search me,” Mandy muttered, spooning another ice cube from the empty glass on the table in front of her. “I like pollution, I write in favor of it, and environmental journalism most often implies that it’s in favor of all that “go green” hippie crap.” “Oh, well….” Chrissy seemed taken aback, offended, and Mandy sighed a fourth ti

Shame on you. Don't tell me you've been married for an hour and you've already got eyes for another woman.

Why didn't you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a song?A dance?In the skies littered with stars?Did you not get drunk?Why didn’t you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a film?A book?In idyllic dusks and dawns?Did you not get high?It is good that you didn't.For all is well. I am drunk and dazed.I have already forgotten youand your bewitching ways.

I am sitting here, staring at the dark sky and drunk with memories. laughing like a maniac while crying an ocean. Somewhere it feels like somebody is kissing my lips passionately. While they are continuously pushing a knife, deep into my chest.

Where had he been? Drinking, obviously. Then she started cataloging all the ways he was worthless. On fool impulse, as his most potent available argument against Lily, Bud stuck his hands into his coat pockets and pulled out the many bundles of hundreds and threw them on the bedspread. If you were honest and stupid, you worked a couple of lifetimes for that kind of money, doled out by the hour in pocket-change amounts by asswipe bosses.

When it happens and it hits hard, we decide certain things, and realize there's truth in all those dark, lonely days" He had an instantaneous look about him,a glimmer and a glint over those eyes,he knew how the world worked,and took pleasure in its wickedness.He would give a dime or two to those sitting on the street,he would tell them things like:"It won't get any better,"and"Might as well use this to buy your next fix,"and finally"It's better to die high than to live sober,"His suit was presse

(When told that he is a drunk) My dear, you are ugly; but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly.

People are talking about immigration, emigration and the rest of the fucking thing. It's all fucking crap. We're all human beings, we're all mammals, we're all rocks, plants, rivers. Fucking borders are just such a pain in the fucking arse.

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.

He looked into the crowd for approval, saw his mother and father. He waved and they waved back. Smiles and Indian teeth. They were both drunk. Everything familiar and welcome. Everything beautiful.

Could the two people who are making out please be quiet?" the Colonel asked loudly from his sleeping bag. "Those of us who are not making out are drunk and tired.

I have drunk the night and swallowed the stars. I am dancing with abandon and singing with rapture. There is not a thing I do not love. There is not a person I have not forgiven. I feel a universe of love. I feel a universe of light. Tonight, I am with old friends and we are returning home. The moon is our witness.

Lovecraft says he knows about tentaclesbut that motherfucker never bedded a girl from West Chesterand survivedShe was a toothachethat oneand she tasted like crackthe best thing about her was if I was ever hungryI could always make a meal out of whateverwas making rest at the corners of her mouthI can't remember her nameas is the case with most of themthen again I can't rememberhow many donuts I ate this morningor how many beers I'll drink tonight,tomorrow

Life will hack off your head and shit down your neck every chance it gets. I've found that consuming drugs and booze, listening to music and always having an excuse in the best way to tip the scales.

I have become intoxicated again.You are such a potent wine, my friend.To escape your withdrawal effects,tomorrow I will drink in excess.Alas, why make me love?I was aware, conscious, and sensible before.I am ill by cause of this illusion.The devil plays tricks on me more and more.I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will.Your score, the nightingale song withinnotes composed to imprison and bear me wings.Oh, if only they could hear how it sings!I am now beyond parched.My strings left untouche

You meet a new guy, analyze him, not good for marriage, not good for a relationship, not good for fucking, maybe excepting the very drunk mood, so, conclusion: this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

I was sprawled out in my usual position on the couch, half asleep but entirely drunk, torturing myself by tearing memories out of my mind at random like matches from a book, striking them one at a time and drowsily setting myself on fire.

I remember only images, snapshots burned into me, bleeding into each other until I no longer knew the order in which they had happen.

With their mother lying in a coma twenty miles away, they clung together drunkenly and wept for the loss of their father.

Poetry keeps mein a highly drunken stateof divinity.

Some people don’t care about Christianity at all unless it can make them drunk or high “in the spirit.” They use and abuse God and Christianity just like they would use any other substance in their life. They search for the experiences, but not God.

Friendship isn't partying with a group of people to get drunk or chatting with him/her once a week, it's exactly the opposite. Friends make sure you get home safely and they help you when you need it, no matter the scenario. They don't care about what clothes you wear or what you look like, and they don't last for a day. Real friends are more interested in what direction your life is headed rather than your popularity. They care about what you have to say and how you feel, and once you meet this

Lady Astor was also said to have responded to a question from Churchill about what disguise he should wear to a masquerade ball by saying, "Why don't you come sober, Prime Minister?"(Reported exchange with Winston Churchill)

These are the words of a fool: I am happy to be a fool, for i won't spend my time gazing at lines difficult to decipher, while my mates are drinking with glee.

Drunk words are sober thoughts

By the first mouthful I knew that I was going to get drunk that night. The drink tasted too good not to.

Don't fall asleep yet. Contrary to popular belief, that's not where dreams get accomplished.

I don't remember things. I black out and I can't remember where I've been or what I've done. Sometimes I wonder if I've done or said terrible things, and I can't remember. And if...if someone tells me something I've done, it doesn't even feel like me. it doesn't feel like it was me who was doing that thing. And it's so hard to feel responsible for something you don't remember. So I never feel bad enough. i feel bad, but the thing that i've done --it's removed from me. It's like it doesn't belong

Wetting one's pants is no kind of self-esteem builder.

When you see a man led to prison say in your heart, "Mayhap he is escaping from a narrower prison." And when you see a man drunken say in your heart, "Mayhap he sought escape from something still more unbeautiful.

It made me giddy. It made me blush, worse than before. It was like liquor. It made me drunk. I drew away. When her breath came now upon my mouth, it came very cold. My mouth was wet, from hers. I said, in a whisper,'Do you feel it?

I feel wonderful and sad. It's the gin.

Oh, no, nope, shoot. Are we about to human mate?

We are born. We die. Somewhere in between we live. And how we live is up to us. That’s it.

What I learned in this tragedy was the eternal lesson of good people going bad.

I thought if I loved you enough I could change you. I was so stupid.

This place is Hell’s waiting room.

There’s no better way for a woman to punish a man than to make him sleep away from her.

People talk about survival. What they mean is killing the other guy.

I like to think she hates my guts a little less every hour.

If you’d saved the girl, you’d be a hero. Next time.

I wanted to see the bullet coming, wanted to know the exact moment of my death.

‘There’s no time for right or wrong,’ I said.

You shouldn’t have done that, Dave.

She played me with a bad hand, and I fell for it every time.

Remember. Observe, assess and act. No hesitation. No remorse.

I turned to her, my whole body hard with tiredness and regret.

There’s nothing worse than delivering bad news to women. I hoped I wouldn’t get good at it.

She smiled at him like a freshman invited to the senior prom. It made my blood boil.

The people inside the gym didn’t stand a dead drunk’s chance.

The sound of him drinking was indescribable—like dirty runoff down a storm drain.

This guy was a humorless bag of nothing but.

Smiling, he handed Landry the bloody aluminum bat Warnick had used. ‘Time to die, old man,’ he said.

She gave herself a hard twist and fell into a sitting position, staring at me with those maggot-filled doll’s eyes.

Sal turned, an eye stalk hanging from his teeth.

When I lifted up the skin, a fat kidney worm dripping with gore raised its bald, blind head and glared at me.

It’s not about winning, it’s about doing what’s right. And yes, we will do what’s right.