Quotes About Intoxication

He's like six hundred years younger than you are. I refuse to be the moral compass of our cell! Most weekends I have an intoxispell bong attached to my mouth like a respirator. I love scatological humor, and I list 'pranks involving nuclear waste' and 'making demons eat things' as my hobbies.

He'd given her the mother of all hangovers - a run-in with the wrath of grapes.

All I can think about is him. His body. It's like I'm drugged. My brain goes on a loop, replaying things we've done, imagining things we'll do. I walk around in this lust-fueled haze.

My thirsty wanted whiskey...

I wonder if perfume could set a man drunk.

And you're wasted with your ladies. Yeah I'm the reason why you always getting faded.

If merely 'feeling good' could decide, drunkenness would be the supremely valid human experience.

She was a drug and he was an addict, hooked on her from the second he'd met her.

All the events of that drink-sodden evening drifted back in snatches. More vividly than all these he recalled that room in the brothel--the dark, tangled hair and the warm, limp limbs. What did it matter whether she was a beauty of a hag? He was twenty and had tasted for the first time of a strange, unforgettable sweetness, an ecstasy that flooded all his senses with amazement.

I'm not talking to anyone, I'm delivering a monologue. It's the inebriated man's prerogative.

She had sounded progressively more and more tipsy

an intoxication with forbidden knowledge in which the natural things become unimportant.

When people get drunk they do things they shouldn't do.

A little learning is a dangerous thing Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring Their shallow draughts intoxicate the brain And drinking largely sobers us again.

I had a wakefulness that I could not shake, and I was still drunk.

Glasses hold liquor, but they never get drunk. Their

Alcohol made it hard to tell a demon from a monster.

Shut up. I'm drunk and I'm trying to confess, so just let me do it, okay?

powiedzia?am mu, ?e jego niebo by?oby md?e i nudne, a on odpar?, ?e moje by?oby pijane.

Inebriate of Air — am I — And Debauchee of Dew — Reeling — thro endless summer days — From Inns of Molten Blue —

Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea Past the houses, past the headlands Into deep eternity! Bred as we, among the mountains Can the sailor understand The divine intoxication Of the first league out from land?

Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee

A drunk mind speaks a sober heart

Do you know what fascinates me about science? It is that I have found the supreme poetry: the intoxicating giddiness of numbers in mathematics and the mysterious murmur of the universe in astronomy.