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

Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need—a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.

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.

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

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

The drunken man is a living corpse.

Sex and drugs and rock and roll.

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.

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.

Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.

As he brews, so shall he drink.

Drinking with women is as unnatural as scolding with ’em.

There are two things that will be believed of any man whatsoever, and one of them is that he has taken to drink.