The only way that I could figure they could improve upon Coca-Cola, one of life's most delightful elixirs, which studies prove will heal the sick and occasionally raise the dead, is to put bourbon in it.
Dorothy Vallens: Hello, baby. Frank Booth: Shut up! It's Daddy, you shithead! Where's my bourbon? Can't you fucking remember anything?
Chris MacNeil: Would you like some bourbon in that, father? Father Merrin: Well, my doctor says I shouldn't but thank God my will is weak.
Roger Thornhill: No. No, Mother, I have not been drinking. No. No. These two men, they poured a whole bottle of bourbon into me. No, they didn't give me a chaser.
Roger Thornhill: We'll get them. We'll throw the book at them. Assault and kidnapping. Assault with a gun and a bourbon and a sports car. We'll get them.
Senator Morton: You had no trouble, of course, with the police once they verified your alibi? Guy Haines: When an alibi is full of bourbon, sir, it can't stand up.
For watching sports, I tend to drink Guinness; early evenings always begin well with a Grey Goose and tonic with plenty of lime; and on a cold winter's night, there's nothing quite like a glass of Black Maple Hill... an absolute peach of a bourbon.
We really don’t get all the government we pay for, and thank goodness. Lord protect us on the day that we do.
A friend comes over with a Ouija board. It spells out: Bourbon. Where’s the band? Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.
Kentucky has always said you can't really make bourbon outside of Kentucky because it's a combination of the barrels and the limestone-fed springs that give us the water. That's our story, and we're sticking to it.
I remain faithful to bourbon sour. It's absolutely delicious. You'd have to ask a bartender what's in it, but I think if you know you might never have a drink. I also love a little rum, 7 years aged, brown, when it is chilly, before dinner.
The government never minds having more power, and is always prepared to paper over the problems it creates. An economy not bludgeoned by powerful elites is the ideal we should seek, even if it has a name that is wildly unpopular: capitalism
It's always on everyone's list, like, 'What's New Orleans like?' I think people have a pre-conceived idea, like it's just Mardi Gras and Bourbon Street. But really, there's so much culture, the music's great, the food's great. It's not good for the w...
But now I understand something more fully that I once only understood abstractly. I see how utterly ridiculous it is to think that the state can be the right means to help those who are poor or living at the margins of society. The state is their ene...
The one plentiful herds of magazine writers would continue to be culled - by the Internet, by the recession, by the American public, who would rather watch TV or play video games or electronically inform friends that, like, 'rain sucks!' But there's ...
The old man had been tanned by the light of too many beer signs, and it just goes to show that you can’t live on three packs of Chesterfields and a fifth of bourbon a day without starting to drift far too fuckin’ wide in the turns.
I was assigned to the office of a recently deceased faculty member; the office hadn't been cleaned out yet, and a few days before the fall term began, I unlocked the door to find a dirty room whose bookshelves were crammed with empty bourbon bottles ...
Sugar: [pouring bourbon into paper cup] Turn the lights on. Daphne: No lights, we don't want anyone to know we're having a party. Sugar: But I might spill some. Daphne: So spill it! Spills, thrills, laughs, and games. This may even turn out to be a s...
She takes another sip of her drink. She looks around the bar. I look at the fine muscles in her neck, at the two points of her clavicle. Her grief has not so much changed her as stripped her down, stripped her body and her face. Maybe she should do w...
Do you prefer fermented or distilled? This is a trick question. It doesn’t matter how much you like wine, because wine is social and writing is anti-social. This is a writer’s interview, writing is a lonely job, and spirits are the lubricant of t...
I sat at my desk, poured myself a glass of wine, and pondered life...my profession...was it meaningless? I took a long, drawn-back swig of the bourbon and slammed down the glass. I only then noticed the stream of filtered light illuminating through t...
