Quotes About Alcohol

the psyche has been burned and left us senseless, the world has been darker than lights-out in a closet full of hungry bats, and the whiskey and wine entered our veins when blood was too weak to carry on

When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn't have you by the throat.

it does seem the more we drink the better the words go.

2 p.m. beer nothing matters but flopping on a mattress with cheap dreams and a beer as the leaves die and the horses die and the landladies stare in the halls; brisk the music of pulled shades, a last man's cave in an eternity of swarm and explosion; nothing but the dripping sink, the empty bottle, euphoria, youth fenced in, stabbed and shaven, taught words propped up to die.

I was getting depressed. My life wasn't going anywhere. I needed something, the flashing of lights, glamour, some damn thing. And here I was, talking to the dead. I finished my first drink. The second was ready.

in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea; I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and death and the lie of love.

I'm going to open another vottle. not a vottle, but a bottle. you open it and I'll drink it. and you try to write as much as I did without falling off of your chair.

soon I'll finish this 5th of Puerto Rican rum. in the morning I'll vomit and shower, drive back in, have a sandwich by 1 p.m., be back in my room by 2, stretched on the bed, waiting for the phone to ring, not answering, my holiday is an evasion, mt reasoning is not.

Baby, I said, I'm a genius but nobody knows it but me. She looked down at me. Get up off the floor you damn fool and get me a drink.

One more drink and you're dead. This is no way to talk to a suicide head.

we waste days like mad blackbirds and pray for alcoholic nights our silk-sick human smiles wrap around us like somebody else's confetti

It's just that the grape has me down.

my greatest problem was stamps, envelopes, paper and wine, with the world on the edge of World War II.

When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn't have you by the throat.

drink without smoke is like cock without pussy

New Year's Eve is like any other eve to me: I drink.

I'd listen to the radio and look at the walls and get drunk enough to almost forget her but then she would return once again.

I bought two tall six-packs of Schlitz and went back to my place and drank down the requiem.

Look, the reason is security, a subconscious need for security. I had a rotten childhood. Two bottles at once fills a void that needs filling. Maybe. I'm not sure.

Medju nama nije bilo nikakve veze, osim sto smo pili i vodili ljubav.

It was con; my mind was blank; I only wanted a halfpint of Grandad and six or seven tall cool beers . . .

Charles Bukowski

La gente la sera è in libertà provvisoria dalle fabbriche, dai magazzini, dalle stazioni di servizio, dai macelli. Il giorno dopo tornano dentro, ma adesso sono fuori, ubriachi di libertà. Non pensano alla schiavitù della povertà. I ricchi staranno bene finché i poveri non impareranno a costruire bombe atomiche nei loro seminterrati

actually, her life is boring and rather common but most are—mine is too except when lifted by whiskey