Alcohol is the monarch of liquids.

I mean, why on earth (outside sickness and hangovers) aren’t people continually drunk? I want ecstasy of the mind all the time.

Give me chastity and continence, but not just now.

As far as I can see, the history of experimental art in the twentieth century is intimately bound up with the experience of intoxification.

If you were to ask me if I’d ever had the bad luck to miss my daily cocktail, I’d have to say that I doubt it; where certain things are concerned, I plan ahead.

Drugs, cataplasms, and whiskey are stupid substitutes for the dignity and potency of divine mind and its efficacy to heal.

Thanks be to God: since my leaving drinking of wine, I do find myself much better and do mind my business better, and do spend less money, and less time lost in idle company.

Drink does not drown care but waters it, and makes it grow faster.

People who’ve drunk neat wine don’t care a damn.

Life isn’t all beer and skittles, but beer and skittles, or something better of the same sort, must form a good part of every Englishman’s education.

Sobriety diminishes, discriminates, and says no; drunkenness expands, unites, and says yes.

A true German can’t stand the French, / Yet willingly he drinks their wines.

I have sometimes thought that the laws ought not to punish those actions of evil which are committed when the senses are steeped in intoxication.