That which the sober man keeps in his breast, the drunken man lets out at the lips. Astute people, when they want to ascertain a man’s true character, make him drunk.

Modern life is often a mechanical oppression, and liquor is the only mechanical relief.

Some writers take to drink, others take to audiences.

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

Give me chastity and continence, but not just now.

Drunkenness is the very sepulcher / Of man’s wit and his discretion.

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.

I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to, too.

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

Alcohol is the monarch of liquids.

I am sure of this: that if everybody was to drink their bottle a day, there would not be half the disorders in the world there are now.

The pleasure we hold in esteem for the course of our lives ought to have a greater share of our time dedicated to it; we should refuse no occasion nor omit any opportunity of drinking, and always have it in our minds.