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“He splashed into the water, his whole body, not with the reverent attitude of prayer, but with a desperate thirst; he buried his head under the water and drank deep, with his cheek against the cold stone of the riverbed, the water tumbling over his back, his calves. He drank and drank, lifted his head and shoulders above the water to gasp in the evening air, and then collapsed into the water again, to drink as greedily as before.It was a kind of prayer, though, he realized as he emerged, freezing cold as the water evaporated from his skin in the breeze of the dark morning.I am with you, he said to the Oversoul. I'll do whatever you ask, because I long for you to accomplish your purpose here.”
Orson Scott Card“She put him out like the burning end of a midnight cigarett. She broke his heart. He spent his whole life trying to forget. We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time. But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind until the night.He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger.And finally drank away her memory.Life is short but this time it was bigger,Than the strength he had to get up off his knees.We found him with his face down in the pillow.With a note that said: I love her til' I die.And when we buried him beneath the willow,The angels sang a whiskey lullaby.La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la.La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la.The rumors flew,But nobody knew how much she blamed herself for years and years.She tried to hide the whiskey on her breath.She finally drank her pain away a little at a time,But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind until the night.She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger.And finally drank away his memory.Life is short but this time it was bigger,Than the strength she had to get up off her knees.We found her with her face down in the pillow.Clinging to his picture for dear life.We laid her next to him beneath the willow,While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby.La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la.La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la.”
Brad Paisley, Hits Alive“You tasted like fireAnd I miss that.So, at timesI drank a little.And at times,I drank too much.But I only drankTill it burned me enough.”
Saiber, Stardust and Sheets“After that, he drank all the rest of the sherry, and Mr. Hubble drank the port, and the two talked (which I have since observed to be customary in such cases) as if they were of quite another race from the deceased, and were notoriously immortal.”
Charles Dickens, Great Expectations“He had a skull and crossbones label on him, but I drank his poison nevertheless and loved it; now I needed an antidote.”
Genna Rulon, Only for You“The taste of Scotch, though Guy didn’t much care for it, was pleasant because it reminded him of Anne. She drank Scotch, when she drank. It was like her, golden, full of light, made with careful art.”
Patricia Highsmith, Strangers on a Train“Nico drank from the chalice, then offered it to Jason. "You asked me about trust, and taking a risk? Well, here you go, son of Jupiter. How much do you trust me?"Frank wasn't sure what Nico was talking about, but Jason didn't hesitate. He took the cup and drank.”
Rick Riordan, The House of Hades“As you eat more healthily, your palate changes - it's amazing. Your taste buds constantly adapt: from minute to minute, in fact. If you drank orange juice right now, it would taste sweet. But if you first ate some sweets then drank the same juice, it could taste unpleasantly bitter.”
Michael Greger“She had been so vulnerable, and Norah wanted only to protect her. But that vulnerability was tied to a massive mistake, a perception of herself too damaged to love. If Norah got anything from this book, it's that we're all damaged. The tragedy is letting it define you.”
Ellen Meister, Dorothy Parker Drank Here“It was the yearning she related to. Shriver seemed to understand the specific human pain of wanting and pushing away at the same time. It left her with a gorgeous ache, and when she turned the last page of the book and closed the cover, Norah's connection to the writer felt absolute. It was a breathless, consuming rapture....”
Ellen Meister, Dorothy Parker Drank Here