CHEERS! — QUIZ

[Anonymouṡ No.19984432]

[Anonymouṡ No.19984434]

Beer, as someone-or-other said, is proof that God exists and wants us to be happy. One hundred non-teetotal quotations to identify. Names redacted only when they're dead give-aways. Hints on request.

Come on, /lit/. If you all pull together you can wrap this one up before closing time.

[Anonymous No.19984438]

>>19984434
Ben Franklin said that one, my friend.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984441]

1)
"We begin well, sir," the fat man purred, turning with a proffered glass in his hand. "I distrust a man that says when. If he's got to be careful not to drink too much it's because he's not to be trusted when he does."

***** took the glass and, smiling, made the beginning of a bow over it.

The fat man raised his glass and held it against a window's light. He nodded approvingly at the bubbles running up in it. He said: "Well, sir, here's to plain speaking and clear understanding."


2)
So on the seventh day
The serpent rested.
God came up to him.
"I've invented a new game," he said.

The serpent stared in surprise
At this interloper.
But God said: "You see this apple?
I squeeze it and look — Cider."


3)
Yours? Mead of our fathers for the Übermensch. Dittoh. Five number ones. You, sir? Ginger cordial. Chase me, the cabby's caudle. Stimulate the caloric. Winding of his ticker. Stopped short never to go again when the old. Absinthe for me, savvy? Caramba! Have an eggnog or a prairie oyster.


4)
The moonlight came down the cellar stairs. We drank some more sassprilluh.

"You know what I wish." ***** said. "I wish a bear would walk in that cellar door. You know what I do. I walk right up to him and spit in he eye. Gimme that bottle to stop my mouth before I holler."


5)
Now one time it comes on Christmas, and in fact it is the evening before Christmas, and I am in Good Time Charley Bernstein's little speakeasy in West Forty-seventh Street, wishing Charley a Merry Christmas and having a few hot Tom and Jerrys with him.

This hot Tom and Jerry is an old-time drink that is once used by one and all in this country to celebrate Christmas with, and in fact it is once so popular that many people think Christmas is invented only to furnish an excuse for hot Tom and Jerry, although of course this is by no means true.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984446]

6)
The drink was like water, indeed very like the taste of the draughts they had drunk from the ***** near, the borders of the forest, and yet there was some scent or savour in it which they could not describe: it was faint, but it reminded them of the smell of a distant wood borne from afar by a cool breeze at night. The effect of the draught began at the toes, and rose steadily through every limb, bringing refreshment and vigour as it coursed upwards, right to the tips of the hair.


7)
. . . . . . . . . And, when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.


8)
— Remember last night? In you reeled, my boy, as drunk as a deacon with a big wet bucket and a fish-frail full of stout and you looked at me and you said, 'God has come home!' you said, and then over the bucket you went, sprawling and bawling, and the floor was all flagons and eels.

— Was I wounded?

— And then you took off your trousers and you said, 'Does anybody want a fight!' Oh, you old baboon.


9)
In the light of the lamp Emmanuelson was a sad sight. He had on a long black overcoat such as nobody wears in Africa, he was unshaven and his hair was not cut, his old shoes were split at the toe. He was bringing no belongings with him to Tanganyika, his hands were empty. It seemed that I was to take the part of the high priest who presents the goat alive to the Lord, and sends it into the wilderness. I thought that here we needed wine. Berkeley Cole, who generally kept the house in wine, some time ago had sent me a case of a very rare burgundy, and now I told Juma to open a bottle from it. When we sat down for dinner and Emmanuelson's glass was filled he drank half of it, held it towards the lamp, and looked at it for a long time like a person attentively listening to music. '*Fameux*,' he said, '*fameux*; this is a Chambertain 1906.' It was, and that gave me respect for Emmanuelson.


10)
***** insisted on ordering *****'s Haig-and-Haig 'on the rocks' and then he looked carefully at the barman.
'A dry martini,' he said. 'One. In a deep champagne goblet.'
'Oui, monsieur.'
'Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon-peel. Got it?'
'Certainly, monsieur.' The barman seemed pleased with the idea.
'Gosh, that's certainly a drink,' said *****.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984447]

11)
That morning she pours Teacher's over my belly and licks it off. That afternoon she tries to jump out the window.


12)
The surgeon's assistant was a student from Sinaloa who had apprenticed himself here. An altercation ensued at the door until the surgeon himself came from the rear of the premises.

You'll have to come back tomorrow, he said.

I dont aim to be no soberer then.

The surgeon studied him. All right, he said. Let me have the whiskey.


13)
He drank to get drunk. He gulped down the brandy, and more brandy, till his face became pale, his eyes burning. And still he could not get free. He went to sleep in drunken unconsciousness, woke up at four o'clock in the morning and continued drinking. He would get free. Gradually the tension in him began to relax. He began to feel happy. His riveted silence was unfastened, he began to talk and babble. He was happy and at one with all the world, he was united with all flesh in a hot blood-relationship. So, after three days of incessant brandy-drinking, he had burned out the youth from his blood, he had achieved this kindled state of oneness with all the world, which is the end of youth's most passionate desire. But he had achieved his satisfaction by obliterating his own individuality, that which it depended on his manhood to preserve and develop.


14)
"But I may as well say — en passant, as the French remark — that I myself — that is to say, Jack Bunger, late of the reverend clergy — am a strict total abstinence man; I never drink — "

"Water!" cried the captain; "he never drinks it; it's a sort of fits to him; fresh water throws him into the hydrophobia; but go on — go on with the arm story."


15)
He got up and carried the glass to the sink, where he poured it into the drain. He took the bottle of champagne into the living room and made himself comfortable on the sofa. He held the bottle by its neck as he drank. He wasn't in the habit of drinking from the bottle, but it didn't seem that much out of the ordinary. He decided that even if he were to fall asleep sitting up on the sofa in the middle of the afternoon, it wouldn't be any more strange than somebody having to lie on his back for hours at a time. He lowered his head to peer out the window. Judging from the angle of sunlight, and the shadows that had entered the room, he judged that it was about three o'clock.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984451]

16)
The drink was a tawny golden color. ***** took a sip, tasting an odd blend of sour and sweet on his tongue. He could taste the alcohol underneath, and a strange blend of flavors. It reminded him a little of prison hooch, brewed in a garbage bag from rotten fruit and bread and sugar and water, but it was sweeter, and far stranger.

"Okay," said *****. "I tasted it. What was it?"

"Mead," said *****. "Honey wine. The drink of heroes. The drink of the gods."

***** took another tentative sip. Yes, he could taste the honey, he decided. That was one of the tastes. "Tastes kinda like pickle juice," he said. "Sweet pickle-juice wine."

"Tastes like a drunken diabetic's piss," agreed *****. "I hate the stuff."


17)
I never remember holding a full drink.
My first look shows the level half-way down.
What next? Ration the rest, and try to think
Of higher things, until mine host comes round?

Some people say, best show an empty glass:
Someone will fill it. Well, I've tried that too.
You may get drunk, or dry half-hours may pass.
It seems to turn on where you are. Or who.


18)
He stopped talking and I let his words hang in the air. They fell slowly and after them was silence. He leaned to pick the bottle off the rock and stare at it. He seemed to fight with it in his mind. The whiskey won the fight, as it always does. He took a long savage drink out of the bottle and then screwed the cap on tightly, as if that meant something. He picked up a stone and flicked it into the water.


19)
And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour — well,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the Goods they sell.


20)
***** was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a forcible, summary ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984458]

21)
"So how did you come to the AA?" they ask. "My husband," I say. "The vicar. He persuaded me." But I lie. It was not my husband; it was Mr Ramesh, the exquisitely delicate and polite Mr. Ramesh who one Sunday night turned his troubled face towards me with its struggling moustache and asked if he might take the bull by the horns and enquire if intoxication was a prerequisite for sexual intercourse, or whether it was only when I was going to bed with him, the beautiful Mr Ramesh, twenty-six, with wonderful legs, whether it was only with him I had to be inebriated.


22)
— 'Fore God, an excellent song.

— I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander, — drink, ho! — are nothing to your English.


23)
"Could I have that?" he asked.
"Why not?" I said.
He took it, then held it up and poured the beer out on the road.
I smiled. "It was getting warm, anyway," I said. Just behind me, on the back seat of the Shark, I could see about ten cans of Budweiser and a dozen or so grapefruits. I'd forgotten all about them. My guilt was obvious.
The cop understood this. "You realize," he said, "that it's a crime to..."
"Yeah," I said. "I know. I'm guilty. I knew it was a crime, but I did it anyway."


24)
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.


25)
One evening after dinner ***** went to bed early, and ***** and ***** sat together in the kitchen, drinking coffee. ***** tried to talk to her, but she was restless and distraught. They sat in silence for many minutes; finally ***** looked at him intently, shrugged her shoulders, and sighed abruptly.

"Look," she said, "do you have any liquor in the house?"

"No," he said, "I'm afraid not. There may be a bottle of sherry in the cupboard, but — "

"I've got most desperately to have a drink. Do you mind if I call the drugstore and have them send a bottle over?"

"Of course not," ***** said. "It's just that your mother and I don't usually —"

But she had got up and gone into the living room. She riffled through the pages of the phone book and dialed savagely. When she came back to the kitchen she passed the table, went to the cupboard, and pulled out the half-full bottle of sherry. She got a glass from the drainboard and filled it nearly to the brim with the light brown wine. Still standing, she drained the glass and wiped her lips, shuddering a little. "It's gone sour," she said. "And I hate sherry."

[Anonymouṡ No.19984460]

26)
They covered for him in line, holding him erect, shielding him from the guards. The cook's helper who loaded his plate looked at his face probably because it was the only one in the line passing at that diminished altitude. Shit a brick, he said.

Bet your ass, said *****, winking profoundly.

They went on to the messhall. ***** stepped over the bench and misbalanced and stepped back. He raised his foot to try again. One of the prisoners grabbed his leg and pulled it down and caught his tilting plate and jerked him onto the bench alongside him.

Tee hee, said *****.


27)
The cold compassion of bartenders, he came to see, was like that of priests: universal rather than personal, with charity for all and malice toward almost none.


28)
"Gentlemen," said *****, "I mean ladies and gentlemen and, of course, boys, what a beautiful world this is. A beautiful world, full of happiness on every side. Let me tell you a little story. Two Irishmen, Pat and Mike, were walking along Broadway, and one said to the other, 'Begorrah, the race is not always to the swift,' and the other replied, 'Faith and begob, education is a drawing out, not a putting in.'"

I must say it seemed to me the rottenest story I had ever heard, and I was surprised that ***** should have considered it worth while shoving into a speech. However, when I taxed him with this later, he said that ***** had altered the plot a good deal, and I dare say that accounts for it.


29)
Let other poets raise a fracas
Bout vines and wines, and drunken Bacchus,
And crabbit names and stories wrack us,
And grate our lug:
I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,
In glass or jug.


30)
"Listen," said Jan, "what time is it? I want to know what time it is."

"Well, let's see, we set the clock by the radio at midnight last night. We know that it gains 35 minutes every hour. It says 7:30 p.m. right now but we know that's not right because it's not dark enough yet.

O.K. That's 7 and one half hours. 7 times 35 minutes, that's 245 minutes. One half of 35 is 17 and one half. That gives us 252 and one half minutes. O.K., that's 4 hours and 42 and one half minutes we owe them so we set the clock back to 5:47. That's it 5:47. It's dinner time and we don't have anything to eat."

Our clock had been dropped and broken and I had fixed it; I took the back off and found something wrong with the main spring and the fly wheel. The only way I could get the clock to run again was to shorten and tighten the main spring. This affected the speed of the clock's hands; you could almost watch the minute hand moving.

"Let's open another jug of wine," said Jan.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984468]

31)
The back room of 'The Three Lamps' was full of elderly men. Mr Farr had not arrived. I leant against the bar, between an alderman and a solicitor, drinking bitter, wishing that my father could see me now and glad, at the same time, that he was visiting Uncle A. in Aberavon. He could not fail to see that I was a boy no longer, nor fail to be angry at the angle of my fag and my hat and the threat of the clutched tankard. I liked the taste of beer, its live, white lather, its brass-bright depths, the sudden world through the wet-brown walls of the glass, the tilted rush to the lips and the slow swallowing down to the lapping belly, the salt on the tongue, the foam at the corners.


32)
Realizing that my wind, though all right for football, would not be equal to boxing round after round, I decided that my fights must be short. The house-butler smuggled a bottle of cherry-whisky in for me — I would shorten the fights on that.

I had never drunk anything alcoholic before in my life. At seven years old my mother persuaded me to sign a pledge card, which bound me to abstain by the grace of God from all spirituous liquors so long as I retained it. But my mother took the card away and put it safely in the box-room, with the Queen Anne silver inherited from my Cheyne grandmother, Bishop *****'s diamond ring which Queen Victoria gave him when he preached before her at Dublin, our christening mugs, and the heavy early-Victorian jewellery bequeathed by Miss Britain. And since box-room treasures never left the box-room, I regarded myself as permanently parted from my pledge. This cherry-whisky delighted me.


33)
We entered the tavern and ordered our dark drinks.

To convert stout into water, I said, that is a simple process. Even a child can do it, though I would not stand for giving stout to children. Is it not a pity that the art of man has not attained the secret of converting water into stout?


34)
"Oh, *****," said the noseless story-teller, "what is man, when you come to think upon him, but a minutely set, ingenious machine for turning, with infinite artfulness, the red wine of Shiraz into urine? You may even ask which is the more intense craving and pleasure: to drink or to make water."


35)
I didn't find the bottle and Big Hans tied the trace. He had to take his gloves off to do it but he did it quick and I had to admire him for it. Pa coaxed Simon while Hans, boosting, heaved. She got clear and suddenly was going — skidding out. I heard a noise like a light bulb bursting. A brown stain spread over the sleigh track. Pa peered over his shoulder at the stain, his hands on the halter, his legs wide in the snow.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984472]

36)
*****'s station in the grocery was behind the cigar counter. The cash register was then on his left and the abacus on his right. Inside the glass case were the brown cigars, the cigarettes, the Bull Durham, the Duke's mixture, the Five Brothers, while behind him in racks on the wall were the pints, half-pints and quarters of Old Green River, Old Town House, Old Colonel, and the favourite — Old Tennessee, a blended whisky guaranteed four months old, very cheap and known in the neighbourhood as Old Tennis Shoes. ***** did not stand between the whisky and the customer without reason. Some very practical minds had on occasion tried to divert his attention to another part of the store. Cousins, nephews, sons and daughters-in-law waited on the rest of the store, but ***** never left the cigar counter.


37)
***** looked at his punch and looked at his complacent friend; drank his punch and looked at his complacent friend.


38)
***** then asked ***** in what feats he would choose to give proofs of that dexterity for which he was so famous. ***** replied, that he would begin a drinking match with any one. ***** consented, and entering the palace, bade his cupbearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged to drink out of when they had trespassed in any way against established usage. The cupbearer having presented it to *****, ***** said —

"Whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a single draught, though some men make two of it, but the most puny drinker of all can do it at three."


39)
Be not among winebibbers; among riotous eaters of flesh:

For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty: and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags.


40)
'There was a gentleman here, yesterday,' he said — 'a stout gentleman, by the name of Topsawyer — perhaps you know him?'
'No,' I said, 'I don't think —'
'In breeches and gaiters, broad-brimmed hat, grey coat, speckled choker,' said the waiter.
'No,' I said bashfully, 'I haven't the pleasure —'
'He came in here,' said the waiter, looking at the light through the tumbler, 'ordered a glass of this ale — WOULD order it — I told him not — drank it, and fell dead. It was too old for him. It oughtn't to be drawn; that's the fact.'
I was very much shocked to hear of this melancholy accident, and said I thought I had better have some water.
'Why you see,' said the waiter, still looking at the light through the tumbler, with one of his eyes shut up, 'our people don't like things being ordered and left. It offends 'em. But I'll drink it, if you like. I'm used to it, and use is everything. I don't think it'll hurt me, if I throw my head back, and take it off quick. Shall I?'

[Anonymouṡ No.19984475]

41)
Now her father had that stiff, funny walk that was so different from the way tramped up and down the station platform in the morning, and she could see that he was looking for something. He was looking for his drink. It was right on the mantelpiece, but he didn't look there. He looked on all the tables in the living-room. Then he went out on the terrace and looked there, and then he came back into the living-room and looked on all the tables again.


42)
A gentleman having to some of the usual arguments for drinking added this: 'You know, Sir, drinking drives away care, and makes us forget whatever is disagreeable. Would not you allow a man to drink for that reason?'

*****: 'Yes, Sir, if he sat next YOU.'


43)
"Lemme look at the bill again," said *****. He picked it up and studied it thoughtfully under the malevolent gaze of the barman, and the equally malevolent gaze of the bird, which was currently gouging great furrows in the bar top with its talons.

It was a rather lengthy piece of paper.

At the bottom of it was a number which looked like one of those serial numbers you find on the underside of stereo sets which always takes so long to copy on to the registration form. He had, after all, been in the bar all day, he had been drinking a lot of stuff with bubbles in it, and he had bought an awful lot of rounds for all the pimps, thugs and record executives who suddenly couldn't remember who he was.


44)
His appetite for the stimulus of wine had increased upon him, as I had too well foreseen. It was now something more to him than an accessory to social enjoyment: it was an important source of enjoyment in itself. In this time of weakness and depression he would have made it his medicine and support, his comforter, his recreation, and his friend, and thereby sunk deeper and deeper, and bound himself down for ever in the bathos whereinto he had fallen. But I determined this should never be, as long as I had any influence left; and though I could not prevent him from taking more than was good for him, still, by incessant perseverance, by kindness, and firmness, and vigilance, by coaxing, and daring, and determination, I succeeded in preserving him from absolute bondage to that detestable propensity, so insidious in its advances, so inexorable in its tyranny, so disastrous in its effects.


45)
"How did you know about the duel? I thought we were to keep it from you."

"Do you think Abe can keep a secret?" He spoke with incisive irony. "Tell a secret over the radio, publish it in a tabloid, but never tell it to a man who drinks more than three or four a day."

[Anonymouṡ No.19984479]

46)
He used sweet wine in place of life because he didn't have any more life to use.


47)
These be fine things, an if they be not sprites.
That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:
I will kneel to him.


48)
"I can't say exactly heard from her. I mean, I don't know. That's why I want your opinion. Let me build you a drink. Something new. They call it a White Angel," he said, mixing one-half vodka, one-half gin, no vermouth.


49)
Fill full your cups: feel no distress;
'Tis only one great thought the less!


50)
Securely separated by the counter itself, and half screened by a barrier of bottles and glasses, Mary could look down upon the company and remain unobserved. They straddled the stools and sprawled upon the benches; they leaned against the wall; they slouched beside the tables; and one or two, whose heads or stomachs were weaker than the rest, already lay full length upon the floor. They were dirty for the most part, ragged, ill-kept, with matted hair and broken nails; tramps, vagrants, poachers, thieves, cattle-stealers, and gypsies. There was a farmer who had lost his farm through bad management and dishonesty; a shepherd who had fired his master's rick; a horse-dealer who had been hounded out of Devon. One fellow was a cobbler in Launceston, and under cover of his trade passed stolen goods; he who lay in a drunken stupor on the floor was once mate of a Padstow schooner, and had run his ship ashore. The little man who sat in the far corner, biting his nails, was a Port Isaac fisherman, and rumor had it that he kept a store of gold rolled up in a stocking and hidden in the chimney of his cottage — but where the gold came from no one would say. There were men who lived nearby, under the very shadow of the tors, who had known no other country but moorland, marsh and granite; one had come walking without a lantern from the Crowdy Marsh beyond Roughtor, taking Brown Willy in his stride; another came from Cheesewring, and sat now with his face in a mug of ale, his boots on a table, side by side with the poor half-witted fellow who had stumbled up the lane from Dozmary. This last had a birthmark that ran the whole length of his face, blazing it purple, and he kept plucking at it with his hands, and pulling out his cheek, so that Mary, who stood in line with him, for all the bottles that divided them, turned sick and nearly faint at the sight of him; and what with the stale drink smell, and the reek of tobacco, and the foul atmosphere of crowded unwashed bodies, she felt a physical disgust rise up in her, and she knew she would give way to it if she stayed there long.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984482]

51)
As was his custom, ***** drank a fair amount of whiskey as he sat and watched the sun ease out of the day. If he wasn't tilting the rope-bottomed chair, he was tilting the jug. The days in ***** were a blur of heat and as dry as chalk, but mash whiskey took some of the dry away and made ***** feel nicely misty inside — foggy and cool as a morning in the Tennessee hills. He seldom got downright drunk, but he did enjoy feeling misty along about sundown, keeping his mood good with tasteful swigs as the sky to the west began to color up. The whiskey didn't damage his intellectual powers any, but it did make him more tolerant of the raw sorts he had to live with: ***** and ***** and *****, young *****, and old *****, the cook.


52)
But the truth is, my uncle ***** was not a water-drinker; he drank it neither pure nor mix'd, or any how, or any where, except fortuitously upon some advanced posts, where better liquor was not to be had — or during the time he was under cure; when the surgeon telling him it would extend the fibres, and bring them sooner into contact — my uncle ***** drank it for quietness sake.


53)
When I unscrewed it
I smelled the disturbed
tart stillness of a bush
rising through the pantry.

When I poured it
it had a cutting edge
and flamed
like Betelgeuse.


54)
***** picked up the bowl and went over to the dusty, heavily distended, black-tarred wineskin that hung neck down from the wall and unscrewed the plug from one of the legs enough so that the wine squirted from the edge of the plug into the bowl. ***** watched her kneeling, holding the bowl up, and watched the light red wine flooding into the bowl so fast that it made a whirling motion as it filled it.


55)
"Thatsh the way. Thatsh jusht the way," said *****, leering down at them. "Now we're quite a happly little family. Mosht shelect and advanced."

He then slid a fat hand through a slit in his white garmet of office and removed from a deep pocket a bottle. Plucking out the cork with his lips, that had gripped it with an uncanny muscularity, he poured half a pint down his throat without displacing the cork, for he laid a finger at the mouth of the bottle, so dividing the rush of wine into two separate spurts that shot adroitly into either cheek, and so, making contact at the back of his mouth, down his throat in one dull gurgle to those unmentionable gulches that lay below.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984489]

56)
There was another thing. It was a black hole in my memory of the previous night, where the long summer evening had turned into night. It was not a large black hole – merely a blotch between the after-dinner drinking and – yes, now it was smaller, the black hole I mean, because on its very brink I remembered getting up yet another bottle, opening it, despite their protests and – doing what? I examined my throat, my mouth, my head, my stomach. It was impossible to believe that I had really made any significant inroads into that (fifth?) bottle. Otherwise my head would be... and my stomach would be... and the black hole would be...

It was at that very moment – and if I bothered to leaf through that pile of journals out there that I am going to burn, I could tell you the hour as well as the date – that I conceived a thought. The point where drinking can be defined as alcoholism is precisely where the black hole is recognized as part of it.


57)
I am not sure ***** had ever drunk wine from a bottle before and it was exciting to him as though he were slumming or as a girl might be excited by going swimming for the first time without a bathing suit.


58)
Anyway the headake is from the party. Joe Carp and Frank Reilly invited me to go with them after work to Hallorans bar for some drinks. I dont like to drink wiskey but they said we will have lots of fun. I had a good time. We played a game with me doing a dance on the top of the bar with a lampshade on my head and everyone laffing.


59)
Because it is no accident that all men of creative genius have toiled in the shade of the corkscrew — how else is a giant to survive among pygmies, make the mundane tolerable, fence himself off from the encroachments of numbing normalcy? How but through regular intakes of fermented anaesthetic are we — there, I've said it — artists to stave off the canvas jacket and the screaming abdab?


60)
"Wine." ***** is now the one squinting. ***** wonders what he's done this time. "'Grape or Grain, but ne'er the Twain,' as me Great-Uncle George observ'd to me more than once,— 'Vine with Corn, beware the Morn.' Of the two sorts of drinking Folk this implies, thah'is, Grape People and Grain People, You will now inform me of Your membership in the Brotherhood of the, eeh, Grape...? and that you seldom, if ever, touch Ale or Spirits, am I correct?"

[Anonymouṡ No.19984496]

61)
"*****," he said, "you're the only one here that's worth anything, and you know I've been always good to you. Never a month but I've given you a silver fourpenny for yourself. And now you see, mate, I'm pretty low, and deserted by all; and *****, you'll bring me one noggin of rum, now, won't you, matey?"

"The doctor — " I began.

But he broke in cursing the doctor, in a feeble voice but heartily. "Doctors is all swabs," he said; "and that doctor there, why, what do he know about seafaring men? I been in places hot as pitch, and mates dropping round with Yellow Jack, and the blessed land a-heaving like the sea with earthquakes — what do the doctor know of lands like that? — and I lived on rum, I tell you. It's been meat and drink, and man and wife, to me; and if I'm not to have my rum now I'm a poor old hulk on a lee shore, my blood'll be on you, *****, and that doctor swab"; and he ran on again for a while with curses.


62)
***** unfolded the draughts board. Then he arranged on the board twenty-four miniature bottles of whisky: twelve Bourbon confronted twelve Scotch.
'What is this, Mr *****?'
'An idea of Dr *****'s. I thought we might have one game to his memory. When you take a piece you drink it.'


63)
"My dear *****, how do I know?" murmured *****, sipping some pale-yellow wine from a delicate, gold-beaded bubble of Venetian glass and looking dreadfully bored. "I was at the opera. You should have come on there."


64)
For it was Saturday night, the best and bingiest glad-time of the week, one of the fifty-two holidays in the slow-turning Big Wheel of the year, a violent preamble to a prostrate Sabbath. Piled-up passions were exploded on Saturday night, and the effect of a week's monotonous graft in the factory was swilled out of your system in a burst of goodwill. You followed the motto of 'be drunk and be happy', kept your crafty arms around female waists, and felt the beer going beneficially down into the elastic capacity of your guts.


65)
Several days after Christmas I stopped in to see Betty. She was sitting in her room, drunk, at 8:45 a.m. in the morning. She didn't look well but then neither did I. It seemed that almost every roomer had given her a fifth. There was wine, vodka, whiskey, scotch. The cheapest brands. The bottles filled her room.

"Those damn fools! Don't they know any better? If you drink all this stuff it will kill you!"

Betty just looked at me. I saw it all in that look.

She had two children who never came to see her, never wrote her. She was a scrubwoman in a cheap hotel. When I had first met her her clothes had been expensive, trim ankles fitting into expensive shoes.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984520]

66)
"It's cider," she said. "You ain't to drink it though. Not much of it, any rate."

Huge and squat, the jar lay on the grass like an unexploded bomb. We lifted it up, unscrewed the stopper, and smelt the whiff of fermented apples. I held the jar to my mouth and rolled my eyes sideways, like a beast at a water-hole. "Go on," said *****.


67)
The word was beautiful: wine. It made you think of dark purple because the grapes were dark purple that grew in Greece outside houses like white temples. But the faint smell of the rector's breath had made him feel a sick feeling on the morning of his first communion. The day of your first communion was the happiest day of your life. And once a lot of generals had asked Napoleon what was the happiest day of his life. They thought he would say the day he won some great battle or the day he was made an emperor. But he said:

— Gentlemen, the happiest day of my life was the day on which I made my first holy communion.


68)
Miss Hillis knows quite a lot about serving drinks, but she has a one-cocktail delusion about Old-Fashioneds. She writes, 'Old-Fashioneds come into the economy class after a fashion, because of the fact that you make them singly, and usually people don't expect two.' I believe it can safely be said that nothing in the world depresses a guest so much as only one Old-Fashioned.


69)
But somehow the second bottle of Asti was not such a success as the first. To begin with there was uncomfortableness over its ordering. Gordon beckoned to the waiter.
'Have you got another bottle of this?'
The waiter beamed fatly. 'Yes, sir! Mais certainement, monsieur!'
Rosemary frowned and tapped Gordon's foot under the table. 'No, Gordon, NO! You're not to.'
'Not to what?'
'Order another bottle. We don't want it.'
'Oh, bosh! Get another bottle, waiter.'


70)
'Funny how things happen. You used to teach me the organ; d'you remember?'
'Yes, I remember,' said Paul.
'And then ***** wanted to marry you; d'you remember?'
'Yes,' said Paul.
'And then you went to prison, and Alastair — that's *****'s young man — and ***** — that's her husband — got you out; d'you remember?'
'Yes,' said Paul, 'I remember.'
'And here we are talking to one another like this, up here, after all that! Funny, isn't it?'
'Yes, it is rather.'
'Paul, do you remember a thing you said once at the Ritz — Alastair was there — that's *****'s young man, you know — d'you remember? I was rather tight then too. You said, "Fortune, a much-maligned lady". D'you remember that?'
'Yes,' said Paul, 'I remember.'
'Good old Paul! I knew you would. Let's drink to that now; shall we? How did it go? Damn, I've forgotten it. Never mind. I wish I didn't feel so ill.'
'You drink too much, Peter.'
'Oh, damn, what else is there to do?'

[Anonymouṡ No.19984525]

71)
It was manufactured in some town in the south and was known as 'The Wrastler'. If you drank three or four pints of it, it was nearly bound to win. The customers praised it highly and when they had it inside them they sang and shouted and sometimes lay down on the floor or on the roadway outside in a great stupor. Some of them complained afterwards that they had been robbed while in this state and talked angrily in the shop the next night about stolen money and gold watches which had disappeared off their strong chains.


72)
Slowly he lifted the glass to his nose. The point of the nose entered the glass and moved over the surface of the wine, delicately sniffing. He swirled the wine gently around in the glass to receive the bouquet. His concentration was intense. He had closed his eyes, and now the whole top half of his body, the head and neck and chest, seemed to become a kind of huge sensitive smelling-machine, receiving, filtering, analysing the message from the sniffing nose.


73)
"You never know when a stroke of luck is coming. Once when I was at the Hotel Royal an American customer sent for me before dinner
and ordered twenty-four brandy cocktails. I brought them all together on a tray, in twenty-four glasses. 'Now, garcon,' said the customer (he was drunk), 'I'll drink twelve and you'll drink twelve, and if you can walk to the door afterwards you get a hundred francs.' I walked to the door, and he gave me a hundred francs. And every night for six days he did the same thing; twelve brandy cocktails then a hundred francs. A few months later I heard he had been extradited by the American government — embezzelment."


74)
Then, rising from the cellar like a June goddess, Grandma would come, something hidden but obvious under her knitted shawl. This, carried to every miserable room upstairs-and-down would be dispensed with aroma and clarity into neat glasses, to be swigged neatly. The medicines of another time, the balm of sun and idle August afternoons, the faintly heard sounds of ice wagons passing on brick avenues, the rush of silver skyrockets and the fountaining of lawn mowers moving through ant countries, all these, all these in a glass.


75)
All the great villainies of history have been perpetrated by sober men, and chiefly by teetotalers. But all the charming and beautiful things, from the Song of Songs to terrapin à la Maryland, and from the nine Beethoven symphonies to the Martini cocktail, have been given to humanity by men who, when the hour came, turned from well water to something with color to it, and more in it than mere oxygen and hydrogen.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984530]

76)
Let a man walk ten miles steadily on a hot summer's day along a dusty English road, and he will soon discover why beer was invented.


77)
— Why do you drink?
— Don't know, give me my crutch!
— You better think why you drink or give up drinking!


78)
They moved rapidly on between the close walls of impenetrable cane-stalks which gave a sort of blondness to the twilight and possessed something of that oppression, that lack of room to breathe in, which the walls of his house had had. But this time, instead of fleeing it, he stopped and raised the jug and drew the cob stopper from the fierce duskreek of uncured alcohol and drank, gulping the liquid solid and cold as ice water, without either taste or heat until he lowered the jug and the air got in. "Hah," he said. "Dat's right. Try me. Try me, big boy. Ah gots something hyar now dat kin whup you."


79)
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.


80)
Sucking a lemon he took stock of his surroundings. The mescal, while it assuaged, slowed his mind; each object demanded some moments to impinge upon him. In one corner of the room sat a white rabbit eating an ear of Indian corn. It nibbled at the purple and black stops with an air of detachment, as though playing a musical instrument. Behind the bar hung, by a clamped swivel, a beautiful Oaxaqueñan gourd of mescal de olla, from which his drink had been measured. Ranged on either side stood bottles of Tenampa, Berreteaga, Tequila Añejo, Anís doble de Mallorca, a violet decanter of Henry Mallet's 'delicioso licor', a flask of peppermint cordial, a tall voluted bottle of Anís del Mono, on the label of which a devil brandished a pitchfork. On the wide counter before him were saucers of toothpicks, chiles, lemons, a tumblerful of straws, crossed long spoons in a glass tankard. At one end large bulbous jars of many-coloured aguardiente were set, raw alcohol with different flavours, in which citrus fruit rinds floated. An advertisement tacked by the mirror for last night's ball in Quauhnahuac caught his eye: Hotel Bella Vista Gran Baile a Beneficio de la Cruz Roja. Los Mejores Artistas del radio en acciόn. No falte Vd. A scorpion clung to the advertisement. The Consul noted all these things carefully. Drawing long sighs of icy relief, he even counted the toothpicks. He was safe here; this was the place he loved — sanctuary, the paradise of his despair.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984535]

81)
What would you say, sir squire, to my having such a great natural instinct in judging wines that you have only to let me smell one and I can tell positively its country, its kind, its flavour and soundness, the changes it will undergo, and everything that appertains to a wine? But it is no wonder, for I have had in my family, on my father's side, the two best wine-tasters that have been known in ***** for many a long year, and to prove it I'll tell you now a thing that happened them. They gave the two of them some wine out of a cask, to try, asking their opinion as to the condition, quality, goodness or badness of the wine. One of them tried it with the tip of his tongue, the other did no more than bring it to his nose. The first said the wine had a flavour of iron, the second said it had a stronger flavour of cordovan. The owner said the cask was clean, and that nothing had been added to the wine from which it could have got a flavour of either iron or leather. Nevertheless, these two great wine-tasters held to what they had said. Time went by, the wine was sold, and when they came to clean out the cask, they found in it a small key hanging to a thong of cordovan; see now if one who comes of the same stock has not a right to give his opinion in such like cases.


82)
After a mincing attack on his bowl, he watched the hag's proceedings from the corner of his eye, and saw the game she played. He winked to her, and passed up his basin in reply to her nod; when she took a bottle from under the table, slily measured out a quantity of its contents, and tipped the same into the man's furmity. The liquor poured in was rum. The man as slily sent back money in payment.


83)
Here's what the Encyclopedia Galactica has to say about alcohol. It says that alcohol is a colourless volatile liquid formed by the fermentation of sugars and also notes its intoxicating effect on certain carbon-based life forms.

The ***** also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the *****.

It says that the effect of a ***** is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.


84)
There are people, I know, to be found,
Who say, and apparently think,
That sorrow and care may be drowned
By a timely consumption of drink.


85)
The loud laughter came from some people who were watching the roller coaster. There was *****'s father, pretending to drink from an empty bottle and pretending to contemplate suicide from every rise. This clowning was successful. His audience was rapt. ***** went up to the razorback who ran the controls. "That's my father," he said, "could you land him?"

[Anonymouṡ No.19984541]

86)
Mr. ***** it is our understanding that at curfew rightly decreed by law and in that hour wherein night draws to its proper close and the new day commences and contrary to conduct befitting a person of your station you betook yourself to various low places within the shire of McAnally and there did squander several ensuing years in the company of thieves, derelicts, miscreants, pariahs, poltroons, spalpeens, curmudgeons, clotpolls, murderers, gamblers, bawds, whores, trulls, brigands, topers, tosspots, sots and archsots, lobcocks, smellsmocks, runagates, rakes, and other assorted and felonious debauchees.

I was drunk, cried *****.


87)
'Do you want some beer?' she said. 'I'll get you some. You don't have to pay for it.'
'You don't have to get me anything. I'll drink this alleged coffee and get out of here.'
She walked to the bar and ordered a beer. I watched her pay for it from a handful of coins she dug out of her smock. She carried the beer to me and placed it under my nose. It hurt me.
'Take it away,' I said. 'Get it out of here. I want coffee, not beer.'
Someone in the rear called her name and she hurried away. The backs of her knees appeared as she bent over the table and gathered empty beer mugs. I moved in my chair, my feet kicking something under the table. It was a spittoon. She was at the bar again, nodding at me, smiling, making a motion indicating I should drink the beer. I felt devilish, vicious. I got her attention and poured the beer into the spittoon. Her white teeth took hold of her lower lip and her face lost blood. Her eyes blazed.


88)
True it is that even wine, up to a certain point and with certain men, rather tends to exalt and to steady the intellect; I myself, who have never been a great wine-drinker, used to find that half-a-dozen glasses of wine advantageously affected the faculties — brightened and intensified the consciousness, and gave to the mind a feeling of being 'ponderibus librata suis'; and certainly it is most absurdly said, in popular language, of any man that he is disguised in liquor; for, on the contrary, most men are disguised by sobriety...


89)
With almost ludicrous care the old man carried the pitcher of beer across the sunlit room toward the still older man who reclined propped up in a bed by the window. A smear of dried mud was caked on the foot of the bed.

'Here you are, Sire,' he said, pouring the black liquid into the earthenware cup which the old king had picked up from the table beside the bed.

The king raised the cup to his lips and sniffed it. 'Ah,' he breathed. 'A potent batch this time. Even the vapors are strengthening.'


90)
'Why did the barmaid champagne?' he said. 'Do you give it up?'
'Yes,' said Celia.
'Because the stout porter bitter,' said *****.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984547]

91)
***** had been told to look for a man with a heavy moustache who would be sitting by himself drinking an Alexandra. ***** had been amused by this secret recognition signal. The creamy, feminine drink was so much cleverer than the folded newspaper, the flower in the buttonhole, the yellow gloves that were the hoary, slipshod call-signs between agents. It had also the great merit of being able to operate alone, without its owner. And ***** had started off with a little test. When ***** had come into the bar and looked round there had been perhaps twenty people in the room. None of them had a moustache. But on a corner table at the far side of the tall, discreet room, flanked by a saucer of olives and another of cashew nuts, stood the tall-stemmed glass of cream and vodka. ***** went straight over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down.


92)
Full many a draught of wine he had y-draw
From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep;
Of nice conscience took he no keep.


93)
I see ***** clearly, holding her gin fizz.

"I am glad to see you," says *****, who is five feet nine and in her high heels looks me straight in the eye and says what she thinks.

"So am I," I say, feeling a wonder that there should be such a thing as a beautiful six-foot woman who is glad to see me. Women are mythical creatures. They have no more connection with the ordinary run of things than do centaurs. I see her clearly, gin fizz in one hand, the other held against her sacrum, palm out, pushing herself rhythmically off the wall. Women! Music! Love! Life! Joy! Gin fizzes!


94)
"Fill with mingled cream and amber,
I will drain that glass again.
Such hilarious visions clamber
Through the chamber of my brain —
Quaintest thoughts — queerest fancies
Come to life and fade away;
What care I how time advances?
I am drinking ale today."


95)
He lifted the empty pint to his mouth. One warm drop crawled like slow syrup through the neck of the bottle. It lay on his tongue, useless, all but impossible to swallow. He thought of all the mornings (and as he thought of them he knew he was in for another cycle of harrowing mornings) when, at such times as these, he would drag himself into the kitchen and examine the line-up of empty quarts and pints on the floor under the sink, pick them up separately and hold them upside down over a small glass, one by one for minutes at a time, extracting a last sticky drop from one bottle, two drops from another, maybe nothing from a third, and so on through a long patient nerve-wracking process till he had collected enough, perhaps, to cover the bottom of the glass. It was like a rite — the slow drinking of it still more so; and it was never enough.

[Anonymouṡ No.19984553]

96)
The last time we had a drink in a bar was in May and it was earlier than usual, just after four o'clock. He looked tired and thinner but he looked around with a slow smile of pleasure.

"I like bars just after they open for the evening. When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny and the barkeep is giving himself that last look in the mirror to see if his tie is straight and his hair is smooth. I like the neat bottles on the bar back and the lovely shining glasses and the anticipation. I like to watch the man mix the first one of the evening and put it down on a crisp mat and put the little folded napkin beside it. I like to taste it slowly. The first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar — that's wonderful."

I agreed with him.

"Alcohol is like love," he said. "The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl's clothes off."


97)
Do we by any chance know a beverage called May Queen? Its full name is 'Tomorrow'll be all the year the maddest, merriest day, for I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.' A clumsy title, generally shortened for purposes of ordinary conversation. Its foundation is any good, dry champagne, to which is added liqueur brandy, armagnac, kummel, yellow chartreuse and old stout, to taste. It is a good many years since I tried it myself, but I can thoroughly recommend it to alleviate the deepest despondency.


98)
Oh many a peer of England brews
Livelier liquor than the Muse,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.


99)
Appetite comes with eating, says *****, but the thirst goes away with drinking. I have a remedy against thirst, quite contrary to that which is good against the biting of a mad dog. Keep running after a dog, and he will never bite you; drink always before the thirst, and it will never come upon you. There I catch you, I awake you. Argus had a hundred eyes for his sight, a butler should have (like Briareus) a hundred hands wherewith to fill us wine indefatigably. Hey now, lads, let us moisten ourselves, it will be time to dry hereafter.


100)
"What do people like to drink here, then?"
The landlord looked sideways at his customers, a clever trick given that they were directly in front of him.
"Why, lordship, we drink scumble, for preference."
"Scumble?" said *****, failing to notice the muffled sniggers.
"Aye, lordship. Made from apples. Well, mainly apples."
This seemed healthy enough to *****. "Oh, right," he said. "A pint of scumble, then."

[Anonymous No.19985336]

>>19984458
Is 23 fear and loathing in las vegas?

[Anonymouṡ No.19985379]

>>19985336
It is indeed. The car called 'the Shark' is a hint I guess. (Also the film has most of the dialogue unchanged.)

[Anonymous No.19985383]

>>19984441
4 is sound and fury?

[Anonymouṡ No.19985428]

>>19985383
Sure is. T.P. and Benjy getting smashed in the cellar at Caddy's wedding. Poor Benjy. He was confused even BEFORE the sarsaparilla.

[Anonymous No.19985430]

>>19984432
I'm here to avoid doing homework nigga. Tone it down next time.

[Anonymous No.19985478]

IT’S FRIDAY!
FUCK ALL NIGGERS, KIKES, TRANNIES AND ADJACENTS!

[Anonymous No.19985806]

6 Paradife Loft
19 Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat
29 Rabbie Burns
39 Proverbs of Solomon
52 Tristram Shandy
67 Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
92 Canterbury Tales

[Anonymouṡ No.19986158]

>>19985806

6— Well, it's 7,but I assume you meant that. People who use the correct fpelling get the benefit of the doubt.
19 — Yup.
29 — Yup. I think it's called "Scotch Whiskey" or something. A plain down-to-earth title anyway.
39 — Yup. Well Proverbs anyway, whoever wrote 'em.
52 — Yes. I didn't expect this one to be got early (or at all).
67 — Yep. The Napoleon thing sticks in the mind I guess.
92 — Yup. Rhymed couplets and before they invented spelling. Gotta be Chaucer. It's the Shipman.

[Anonymouṡ No.19987572]

12, 25, 60, 81, 86 are /lit/ favourites.

[Anonymouṡ No.19988708]

Hmm, I suppose it's possible there's a late riser in California who knows some of these. Let's give him the chance.