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

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.

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.

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

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

The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we’d get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. Probably at the next gas station.

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.

Sex and drugs and rock and roll.

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

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

As he brews, so shall he drink.

The drunken man is a living corpse.

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