The only cure for a real hangover is death.

Robert Benchley

Mots clés death drinking hangovers

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How do I feel today? I feel as unfit as an unfiddle,
And it is the result of a certain turbulence in the mind and an uncertain burbulence in the middle.
What was it, anyway, that angry thing that flew at me?
I am unused to banshees crying Boo at me.
Your wife can’t be a banshee—
Or can she?

Ogden Nash

Mots clés poetry marriage relationships drinking hangover banshees

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Now is the time to drink!

Horatius

Mots clés life drinking

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I'm going out for a bottle of champagne. We're going to get bombed.

Stephen King

Mots clés humor drinking

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Rick feels almost the way he used to halfway through his third drink, his favorite moment, the way he wishes all moments in life could feel: heightened with the sense that anything could happen at any moment--that being alive is important, because just when you least expect it, you might receive exactly what you least expect.

Douglas Coupland

Mots clés life drinking possibility wishful-thinking

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I try to convince myself that it's the alcohol talking. But alcohol can't talk. It just sits there. It can't even get itself out of the bottle.

David Levithan

Mots clés drinking

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I would not put a thief in my mouth to steal my brains.

William Shakespeare

Mots clés drinking brain alcohol stealing thief

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I'm a drinker with writing problems.

Brendan Behan

Mots clés writing drinking

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I've gotten more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me.

Winston S. Churchill

Mots clés drinking

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More wine for me, pour me some more!"

"You smart girl, I knew you're a smart girl, just teasing...”

Faces turn red, the dark earth blood is rising.

They wink at Pelka, wink at the host: "He knows his goods!" The women feel the buttons constricting them - they undo one, another, a third. By twos the guests go outside to get some air.

"Well, my dear guests, are you soaked to the gills? Eh? And now-to dance! Get lively!"

The table and the chairs vanish. The middle of the room is empty. Ivan the Monk jumps out of his hole, a tambourine in his hands: "Tim-ta-a-am! Tim-ta-a-am!"

“Eh-hey!" the redhead suddenly snatches the tambourine and sweeps off, tapping wildly in a circle. Eyes closed: a white sleepless sun-a white night on the meadow-white columns of smoke swaying over fires...

"Eh-ah!"-to whirl herself to death, to whirl out everything, to empty herself - nothing has ever been...

Heavy boots are thumping on the floor, beards fly in the wind, the frock-coat tails go flying... hey, get going, faster, faster - a hundred versts an hour! ("The North")

Yevgeny Zamyatin

Mots clés dancing drinking party russian-fun

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