Quotes About Whiskey

This guitar had cried, wailed, wept when Frankie had played; and in the dim corners of smoky bars from Harlem to New Orleans, bars ripe with the odors of whiskey and cheap cologne, people had cried, wailed, and wept along with it, bright eyes, running down ebon cheeks.

He had liquor in about any color you could ask for, except the one I liked best, standard whiskey brown. I told him no thanks. He poured himself three fingers of emerald green and added equal portions of lemon yellow, sky blue, and sunset orange. I half expected him to stir it with a' Crayola.

Certain dives on New York City's Bowery offered as much as you could drink from a rubber hose connected to a liquor barrel until you had to stop to take a breath; this would set you back a mere three cents. For two cents more, however, certain places would provide a shot of whiskey and a woman to go with it.

Bitters often come into play in French-Italian drinks, especially when whiskey or brandy is called for as a base, and the creative bartender should always bear that in mind when composing new formulas. By experimenting with Angostura, Peychaud's, orange, or any other flavor of bitters, you can change the character of the resultant cocktail quite dramatically.

I had been up all night with my old friend Allen Ginsberg, the poet, and we had both slid into the abyss of whiskey madness and full-bore substance abuse. It was wonderful

The room looked like the site of some disastrous zoological experiment involving whiskey and gorillas

I'm really focusing right now on YouTube, doing stuff with my 'Wrestling With Whiskey' project, really trying to grow that because I think that's going to, whether we like it or not, be the future of a lot of forms of entertainment.

My, aren't we bold with well-aged whiskey?

They'll tell you they love you like stars in the West But along comes corn whiskey; they love it the best. Go

I want a swallow of whiskey to take that pill, Polly yelled. Damn things get stuck when you make me take them water.

an old-fashioned Irish bar called County Cork, all dark and comforting on the inside, an ancient bar worn and lovingly shined that curved around, and a smell that permeated the place—welcoming and old and mellow. She slid into a booth that was done in black leather, worn and soft and smelling of beer and whiskey with just a hint of salted peanuts. The large room was dim, nearly empty

For him life was all full of opportunities, and I don't think that was necessarily a bad thing, but I think he wanted to grab them for all the wrong reasons. He wasn't passionate about art, he didn't care about lawyers helping people, he didn't even care about my singing voice. It was all for more money. And so I suppose it was fitting that it was the loss of all his money that killed him in the end. The pills and the whiskey were just the nails in the coffin.

He was numb and empty and he drank two fingers of whiskey from his bathroom glass before he lay down. The darkness pressed too closely on him. He turned on the bathroom light and went back to bed. He pretended Molly was in the bathroom brushing her hair.

Whiskey claims to itself alone the exclusive office of sot-making.

Sweat is a waste of whiskey.

parties without a Jameson are like Zen without the echoing yawn.

That's ruining two good drinks (adding water to scotch).

In those days the best painkiller was ice; it wasn't addictive and it was particularly effective if you poured some whiskey over it.

Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer any more. Not the whiskey drinking Indian, nor the Marine that went to war.

When true love broke my heart in half, I took the whiskey from the shelf, And told my neighbors when to laugh.I keep a dog, and bark myself.

whiskey makes the heart beat faster but it sure doesn't help the mind and isn't it funny how you can ache just from the deadly drone of existence?

Ya got cigarettes?" she asks. "Yes," I say, "I got cigarettes." "Matches?" she asks. "Enough to burn Rome." "Whiskey?" "Enough whiskey for a Mississippi River of pain." "You drunk?" "Not yet.

you smirk, look at her (what's this?), you're cut somewhere, love it, the dripping of red onto your dirty torn undershirt, the whiskey roaring through your invincibility: you're young, you're big, and the world stinks from centuries of Humanity while you're on course and there's something left to drink—

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