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.

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

To live on a day-to-day basis is insufficient for human beings; we need to transcend, transport, escape; we need meaning, understanding, and explanation.

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

There was a great deal of drinking among us but little drunkenness. We all seemed to feel that Prohibition was a personal affront and that we had a moral duty to undermine it.

A man who exposes himself when he is intoxicated has not the art of getting drunk.

Sex and drugs and rock and roll.

Give me chastity and continence, but not just now.

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

Some writers take to drink, others take to audiences.

Under the pressure of the cares and sorrows of our mortal condition, men have at all times and in all countries, called in some physical aid to their moral consolations—wine, beer, opium, brandy, or tobacco.

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

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.