Quotes About Intoxication

There is something in the Russia-ness of Russia that often seems to intoxicate. Again and again, discussions of the country's history, particularly those of non-Russians but sometimes those of Russians themselves, veer into romanticised essentialism, evocations of some supposed irreducible, ineffable Russian Spirit, with a black box at its heart. Not only uniquely sad but uniquely inscrutable, evasive of explanation: mnogostradalnaya, much-suffering Russia; Little Mother Russia.

Truly love is the strongest intoxicant of them all, the drink of deepest oblivion. Else how could I have forgiven him so quickly for what he'd done? No. Love is the spade with which we bury, deep inside our being, the things that we cannot bear to remember, cannot bear anyone else to know. But some of them remain. And they rise to the surface when we least expect them.

I now think that it was in my honours year that drugs and I got very tight, became best friends, pledged allegiance to one another.

Some time later, although Walter couldn't have guessed how long if he'd been paid to do so, he became aware of a warm, spicy, almost ambrosial smell.

Ich habe Angst vor dieser Erscheinung, aber wenn man viel trinkt, dann geht das schon wieder weg.

Richard knows a bar that's open until two and they go off in search of it, the two girls tottering on their heels and swaying against the men, who seem all too happy to support them.

Whisky was almost universally used.

She is the gin. Cold, intoxicating. Gives you a rush, makes you warm inside, makes you lose your head. Take too much, it makes you sick and shuts you down. He is the coffee, hot, steaming, filtered. You have to add stuff to it to make it taste good. Grinds your stomach, makes you jittery, wired, and tense. Bad trip, keeps you up, burns you out. Coffee and gin don't mix, never do, everybody keeps trying and trying to make it taste good.

There will be no real life There will be the alcohol circus

One can only live while one is intoxicated with life; as soon as one is sober it is impossible not to see that it is all a mere fraud and a stupid fraud! That is precisely what it is: there is nothing either amusing or witty about it, it is simply cruel and stupid.

He knew what was going to happen next. He'd answer her silly-ass question, take her drunken ass out on the dance floor, and an hour later they'd be doing the horizontal cha-cha. Not bad work if you could get it though, he thought... "How'd I lose my eye?

If there was any magic in this world that was not magic, it was wine

The dark liquid looked black in the glass, and she had to restrain herself from gulping it. Fresh tobacco. Black currants. God, it was so good. She kept it in her mouth for a count of ten before she swallowed. If there was any magic in this world that was not magic, it was wine.

If he tells the truth, it is because the most reeking lie no longer intoxicates him, even though he swallow it not in the modest doses that idealism offers, but in immoderate quantities, thousand-gallon-barrel gulps. He would taste the bitterness, but it would not make his head turn, as it does Schiller's, or Dostoevsky's, or even Socrates', whose head, as we know, could stand any quantity of wine, but went spinning with the most commonplace lie.

The intoxication of anger, like that of the grape, shows us to others, but hides us from ourselves.

You know, that's the trouble with drinking. Come the morning, you can never remember their names.

Under the spell of alcohol your differences recede.

American campuses. Like Disneyland, they are an ideal micro-city, the artificial ideal type of an intellectual biosphere. Like any realization of an ideal, they end up secreting a fierce coercion ('political correctness') and an internal intoxication, with its poisons and endorphins.

When a man gets drunk he gets sentimental. That's what I wanted to avoid.

We'd boil this whisky because we thought that would make it stronger. So we thought we were getting drunk, but in fact there'd be no alcohol left in it.

You can learn a lot about a woman by getting smashed with her.

don't you know there ain't No devil, there's just god when he's drunk...

So there we were shooting Jack Daniels into our veins, like what the fuck we can just drink it.

I tried to tell people about it, but I was drunk: they thought I was talking in riddles or metaphors.