A beverage of leisure is a serious business,” Shane Bowermaster was known to declare. “There can be no product of pleasure without the inverse on the end of the producer.
Sorry to hear about your Dad." He shrugged. "He was seventy, and we always told him fast food would kill him." "Heart attack?" "He was hit by a Pizza Express truck.
Angelo Maggio: Let's go to a phone booth or something, huh? Where I will unveil a fifth of whiskey, I have hidden here under my loose, flowing sports shirt.
Dr. Zefram Cochrane: [to Riker] I've got a 4-alarm hangover. It's either from all that whiskey, or your laser beam. Or both. But I'm ready to make history.
If, as PJ O'Rourke ones quipped, giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys, giving actual money and power to teenage boys (and girls) is as predictably disastrous as you would imagine.
In her career, she'd closed multi-million dollar deals without a hint of nerves. Now she needed a jumbo-sized bottle of antacids just to get out of her car. Or a double shot of whiskey. God, she was losing it.
I am going to add a cold beer. Why not a bottle of whiskey? Because my story is cheap and cannot afford such props. Goddamn, even my imagination is not wealthy enough to order a bottle of Jack!
Don't go taking that gospel stuff seriously. It's nice to clean you out now and then, but it ain't for real. It's like bad whiskey. Run through you fast and leave you with pain.
I like my water on the rocks, and I like those rocks to be in a mountain stream. That’s how I like my coffee too, fresh from a glass of whiskey.
At best, I consider flying an unavoidable necessity, a time to resurrect forgotten prayers and contemplate the end of all joy in a twisted howling heap of machinery; at worst, I rank it right up there with psychotic episodes and torture at the hands ...
A woman is like whiskey. She evaporates a little over time, distilled by disappointments and grief. One can never predict if the angels will take the best of her or the worst. Only time will tell is the woman that remains will be bitter, dispirited o...
Big George: You know I just, I can't drink whiskey like I usetacould. My old belly just ain't no count. I get the shits every time don't you know.
Frank Dunne: Have another drink. Archy Hamilton: Whiskey doesn't make you look old. Frank Dunne: Oh, doesn't it just? Have you seen my dad? I know he looks like a wreck, but he's really 35.
[Enzo pulls out a whiskey flask in a diving bell] Noireuter: Is that alcohol? That's *really* forbidden! Enzo: Hey, do you have any more complaints? Just make a list and we'll stick it on the porthole, OK?
It is a great paradox and a great injustice that writers write because we fear death and want to leave something indestructible in our wake and, at the same time, are drawn to all the things that kill: whiskey and cigarettes, unprotected sex, and dee...
Every day I ran to that book like it was a bottle of whiskey and crawled inside because it was a world that I had at least some control over, and slowly, in time, it began to take shape.
These occasions always took him by surprise. He was shocked anew each time the crisply surveyed, neatly kept world he so cherished rose up to confront him with all its essential sloppiness, irrationality, and bad business sense.
But when they began handing out doctorates for comparative folk dancing and advanced fly-fishing, I became too stink in’ proud to use the title. I won’t touch watered whiskey and I take no pride in watered-down degrees.
It starts raining harder, I've got a long way to go walking and pushing that sore leg right along in the gathering rain, no chance no intention whatever of hailing a cab, the whiskey and the Morphine have made me unruffled by the sickness of the pois...
Orafoura, The Mythical Mr. Boo, and Love made flesh walk into a bar, and the bartender asks, “What’ll it be, fellas?” Orafoura replies, “Love.” The Mythical Mr. Boo says, “Hate.” And Love made flesh says, “I agree with both these guys...
I stumbled into the living room, and Thomas handed me a bottle of whiskey. They all had some in a glass "You told them?" I asked Trenton, my voice broken. Trenton nodded. I collapsed to my knees, and my brothers surrounded me, placing their hands on ...
