You! You tricked me! I never want to see you or that bottle of liquid arsenic again!†I chucked the empty moonshine jug at him. Or tried to. It missed him by a dozen feet. He picked it up in astonishment. “You drank the whole bloody thing? You were only supposed to have a few sips!†“Did you say that? Did you?†He reached me just as I felt the ground tip. “Didn’t say anything. I’ve got those names, so that’s all that matters, but you men…you’re all alike. Alive, dead, undead—all perverts! I had a drunken pervert in my pants! Do you know how unsanitary that is?†Bones held me upright. I would have protested, but I couldn’t remember how to. “What are you saying?†“Winston poltergeisted my panties, that’s what!†I announced with a loud hiccup. “Why, you scurvy, lecherous spook!†Bones yelled in the direction of the cemetery. “If my pipes still worked, I’d go right back there and piss on your grave!
Lately I can't help wanting us to be like other people. For example, if I were a smoker, you'd lift a match to the cigarette just as I put it between my lips. It's never been like that between us: none of that easy chemistry, no quick, half automatic flares. Everything between us had to be learned. Saturday finds me brooding behind my book, all my fantasies of seduction run up against the rocks. Tell me again why you don't like sex in the afternoon? No, don't tell me-- I'll never understand you never understand us, America's strangest loving couple: they never drink a bottle of wine together and rarely look at each other. Into each other's eyes, I mean.
By the way, when you finish the bottle of Crown Royal, you can still use the pouch to hold your broken dreams.
Thanks to his constant habit of shaking the bottle in which life handed him the wine of experience, he presently found the taste of the lees rising as usual into his draught.
I just invented a device that eliminates vice. It looks like a bottle of booze, only it’s empty, because I just drank it.
Strategy is buying a bottle of fine wine when you take a lady out for dinner. Tactics is getting her to drink it.
I’m not the kind of man to bottle up my feelings, Kells. I don’t sit up in my room pining away, writing love poems. I’m not a dreamer. I’m a fighter. I’m a man of action, and it will take all of my self-control not to fight for this. When something needs to be done, I do it. When I feel something, I act on it. I don’t see any reason why Ren deserves to get the girl of his dreams and I don’t. It doesn’t seem fair that this happens to me twice.
When will I learn? The answer to life's problems aren't at the bottom of a bottle, they're on TV!
I like to keep a bottle of stimulant handy in case I see a snake, which I also keep handy.
Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoy's Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city's reservoir, he turns to the cupboards, only to find the vodka bottle empty.