Cocktail Banter Quotes

Nora: "How do you feel?"
Nick: "Terrible. I must've gone to bed sober. ~ Dashiell Hammett

If Life Gives You Lemons, Make a Molotov Cocktail ~ Dean Cavanagh

I want to go to a café and sit with you. I want you to order something I've never eaten before and tease me about it. And I want to walk, anywhere, nowhere in particular, and for us to disagree. ~ Kathleen Tessaro

The whole world is drunk and we're just the cocktail of the moment. Someday soon, the world will wake up, down two aspirin with a glass of tomato juice, and wonder what the hell all the fuss was about. ~ Dean Martin

I don't look like someone who leans on a mantelpiece with a cocktail in my hand, you know. ~ Charles Bronson

I love the energy we create between us when we banter like this. It's the most intense sensation of pleasure, knowing he'll always have the perfect response ready. I've never known anyone like him; as addictive to talk to as he is to kiss. "Truth ~ Sally Thorne

You're not a very pleasant damsel in distress," Park remarked.

"And you're a shitty Lassie. Timmy never had to wait this long when he fell down a well. ~ Charlie Adhara

As long as we avoided the real subject, the spell could not be broken. We both slipped naturally into this kind of banter, and it became all the more powerful because neither of us abandoned the charade. We knew what we were doing, but at the same time we pretended not to. ~ Paul Auster

You can't die, Roy."
"Why?"
"I've got a pretty good feeling I'm going to need one kick-ass lawyer, and you're the only one I know. ~ David Baldacci

The effective object of worship is the bottle and the sole religious experience is that state of uninhibited and belligerent euphoria which follows the ingestion of the third cocktail. ~ Aldous Huxley

Enough with the banter, Nightwing. Let's get to work. ~ Scott Snyder

Watching him, his hands buried in his pockets - to keep from circling her neck she supposed - she couldn't help but marvel at the curious mix of Southern courtesy and male arrogance, the natural assumption he shouldered of being lawfully in control. "Engaging in a moral battle isn't always hazardous to one's health, you know."
"Doesn't look like it's doing wonders for yours."
"Saints be praised, it can actually be rewarding."
Looking over his shoulder, he halted in the middle of the room. "Irish."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You. Irish. The green eyes, the tiny bit of red in your hair. Is Connor your real name?"
"Yes, why..." she said, stammering. Bloody hell. "Of course."
"Liar."
She felt the slow, hot roll of color cross her cheeks. "What could that possibly have to do with anything?"
"I don't know, but I have a feeling it means something. It's the first I've heard come out of that sassy mouth of yours that didn't sound like some damned speech." He tapped his head, starting to pace again. "What I wonder is, where are you in there? ~ Tracy Sumner

I'm suspicious that what's behind the academic call for doing away with athletic scholarships is a nostalgia for the good old days, which leaves out everyone but white Anglo-Saxon Protestants, ... world's biggest cocktail party. ~ Scott MacDonald

Your Brain on drugs is a terrible sight, but Mr Tulip was living proof of the fact that so was Your Brain on a a cocktail of horse liniment, sherbet, and powdered water-retention pills. ~ Terry Pratchett

His gaze lingered on her mouth, wide and sweet. A sudden hunger to kiss her made him draw Maggie close. He pressed his mouth against hers, softly, a gently caress, not a searing kiss, for he didn't want to frighten her away.
Her hand on his arm tightened.
Caleb ran his tongue smoothly over her lips until she opened to him, making a small sound. He wanted to plunge his tongue into her mouth and deepen the kiss, to pull her against him and slide his hands over her curves, but he knew that brute of a husband had hurt her. This was only supposed to be a light flirtation, so he held back and waited for her to lead.
Maggie pulled back a few inches. Her eyes fluttered open, dark and luminous, the gold flecks sparkling in the sun. She swallowed and moistened her lips. She studied his face. Her generous mouth trembled, and then her lips turned up. "Why did you kiss me?
"Because I enjoyed your enjoyment in our drive today. I know how seldom pleasures come your way, and I was glad to give you the experience. Because I lack appreciation of my blessings..." 'Because you are mine.'
Caleb didn't want to delve deeper inside himself to find his true feelings, so he resorted to some light banter. He touched the tip of her nose with one finger. "This is the month of May. A man is supposed to steal kisses in May. ~ Debra Holland

I listen to a lot of podcasts, which are split down the middle between comedy and board game podcasts, and a couple of eclectic ones like 'The Dinner Party' from NPR, where they take an event that happened that week in history and give you a cocktail recipe inspired by it. ~ Rich Sommer

I would much rather end up a fertiliser under a sunflower which is eventually made into sunflower seed oil so that instead of nibbling me in her prawn cocktail, the pretty girl will rub me on her bristols as she suns herself on a beach in the Caribbean. ~ Oliver Reed

I remembered letting a cozy little blonde talk me into another champagne cocktail. I remembered the blonde but not the cocktail. ~ Arthur Wallace

A biologist with a history of tooth decay invents a symbiotic microbe which lives in the human mouth and feeds by cleaning our teeth. It secreted calcium, which is poisonous to it, controlling its growth and preventing it from eating the teeth themselves. So this guy, he wants to spread the thing to the world, but it'd never fly, FDA and human squeamishness and all, so he becomes a party animal. He throws wild partys at the lab, kisses female grad students, where's, babies. He backwashes in sodas left on tables. He bums drags of cigarettes. He grants humanity eternally clean and healthy teeth but dies of a terrible cocktail of STDs. ~ James Curcio

I guess we'd better move the trash. We can start with the Dumpster." He pointed at it, looking distinctly unenthusiastic.
"You'd rather face a ravening horde of demons, wouldn't you?" Clary said.
"At least they wouldn't be crawling with maggots. Well," he added thoughtfully, "not most of them, anyway. There was this one demon, once, that I tracked down to the sewers under Grand Central - "
"Don't." Clary raised a warning hand. "I'm not really in the mood right now."
"That's got to be the first time a girl's ever said that to me," Jace mused.
"Stick with me and it won't be the last."
The corner of Jace's mouth twitched. "This is hardly the time for idle banter. We have garbage to haul. ~ Cassandra Clare

A good fragrance is really a powerful cocktail of memories and emotion. ~ Jeffrey Stepakoff

Have you seen the mummies at the British Museum?"
"The Egyptian ones? No, not yet. But they have a similar thing in China."
"Did you ever imagine if they started moving? Withered hands reaching towards you and sunken eyes staring?"
"I didn't, but now I know what I'll be dreaming about tonight. ~ K.J. Charles

Without warning, Aki was between them, arms around their shoulders. "Is this banter I hear?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "Oh no, I could never put up with-"

"Too late, we're all friends now!"

Keisha shook her fist in mock rage. "We've been playing into her hands all along. ~ Ian Isaro

When you start a show, the plans are not set in stone. They're really mutable, cocktail napkin sketches. ~ Eric Kripke

Simon laughed heartily. "I'm afraid the rest of us have to find talents to get our women into bed. Of course once they're there, I have other talents that keep them right where they are."
"Handcuffs hardly count," Christian said offhandedly.
"If you mean the ladies cuffing me to the bed so they can explore Hunt Island," he said, rubbing his chest, " ... then point taken. These hands are capable of making any female climax by the mere brush of a pinky across her bare breast."
"I must have gone to the wrong island," I said with a private laugh. ~ Dannika Dark

Don't care if you're man
or woman: SEXIST
pub talk
belongs in the sewer. ~ Andy Carrington

What would be your first thought if you woke up naked, next to me in bed?"
"Huh ... it's kind of warm considering hell has just frozen over ~ R.S. Burnett

No wonder. Puerto Rican, Italian and Cuban –
the perfect ingredients for a hot, bossy, badass cocktail. ~ Kristen Ashley

Oh God, Oh God we're all gonna die doesn't really fit the definition of banter, now does it? ~ Lilith Saintcrow

Needle in a haystack's easy - just bring a magnet."
Eliot stared witheringly at Hardison. "You take the poetry out of everything."
"Says the man who'd just punch the haystack. ~ Keith R.A. DeCandido

Like most people, I used to wear clothing off the rack. But having them fitted to me makes a really big difference, especially with pieces like a cocktail dress. Little nips and tucks can take 10 pounds off you. ~ Lauren Conrad

Did you know that your open thighs are directly responsible for my renewable energy source? ~ Penelope Douglas

A sacred picture of Saint Anthony alone is one vertical, unwavering band of light. If a cockroach were near him, or a cocktail waitress, the picture would be two such bands of light. Our awareness is all that is alive and maybe sacred in any of us. Everything else about us is just dead machinery. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

Instead, I clear my throat. "Oh yeah? You almost became a dad, Kit. That's a scary life cocktail you're mixing." He's quiet for a long time. ~ Tarryn Fisher

You can change the look of an outfit so easily by changing the kind of jewellery you wear. If you have a basic outfit on - a black sweater and skirt or a simple black dress - you can go from the office to a cocktail party at night just by changing your jewellery. It helps if you change your shoes as well. ~ Iris Apfel

Andrea raised her hand. "This is the hand that slapped Aunt B."
"Maybe you should have it gold-plated."
"Here, you can touch it, since you're my best friend. ~ Ilona Andrews

One of my favorite things about 'Star Trek' wasn't just the overt banter but the humor in that show about the relationships between the main characters and their reactions to the situations they would face; there was a lot of comedy in that show without ever breaking its reality. ~ J.J. Abrams

People make interesting assumptions about the profession. The writer is a mysterious figure, wandering lonely as a cloud, fired by inspiration, or perhaps a cocktail or two. ~ Sara Sheridan

Yet I also felt, for the first time, truly and sincerely pissed. It was enough already. Enough! I'd reached that point that comes in the life of most anxiety sufferers when, fed up by the constant waking torture, dejected and buckled but not yet crushed, they at last turn to their anxiety, to themselves, and say, "Listen here: Fuck you. Fuck you! I am sick and fucking tired of this bullshit. I refuse to let you win. I am not going to take it anymore. You are ruining my fucking life and you MUST FUCKING DIE!" Unfortunately, this approach rarely solves the problem. Anxiety doesn't bend to absolutism. You have to take a subtler, more reasoned approach. But that doesn't mean anger is totally unhelpful. Being pissed off is a strong cocktail for the will. It stiffens the spine. It strengthens resolve. It makes a person less willing to run away from the anxiety and more willing to walk into it, which you're going to have to do, ultimately, if you don't want to end up a complete agoraphobic. Anger breeds defiance, and defiance is inspiriting. It's good to refuse to give in to anxiety. You just have to know how much you can take. ~ Daniel B. Smith

Wasn't this the way it was for most people? The time they lived in was an open invitation to a cocktail of self-denial and self-glorification. And if you didn't like the situation you were stuck in, there was always the option of running away from yourself; running away from opinions, from your marriage, from old values, from trends that had otherwise meant so much yesterday. The problem was just that out there, among all the new, you found nothing of what you were looking for deep down inside, because tomorrow it would all be meaningless again. It had become an eternal and fruitless hunt for your own shadow, and the was pitiful. ~ Jussi Adler-Olsen

Good times can still be had by those following the Paleo lifestyle. Cocktails are often synonymous with sugary syrups and artificial mixers, but I enlisted the help of my craft cocktail mixing brother, Joel, to create these specialty real food 'mocktails', or 'fables' as he calls them. We also see no problem with adding a few splashes of 100% agave Tequila or Mezcal to any of these beverages! (1.5 ounces should do) ~ Danielle Walker

In the recumbence of depression, your information-gathering system collates its intelligence and reports to you these facts: (1) there is nothing to do; (2) there is nowhere to go; (3) there is nothing to be; (4) there is no one to know. Without meaning-charged emotions keeping your brain on the straight and narrow, you would lose your balance and fall into an abyss of lucidity. And for a conscious being, lucidity is a cocktail without ingredients, a crystal clear concoction that will leave you hung over with reality. In perfect knowledge there is only perfect nothingness, which is perfectly painful if what you want is meaning in your life. ~ Thomas Ligotti

It was a lesson she was still learning. When she had first started nursing, she had taken every death personally, like she was losing her father all over again. Every patient lost under her care was a little piece of death she would carry around with her until the end of her own life. But the alternative seemed so unfeeling. Tina and the other nurses could crack jokes and banter back and forth about contestants on American Idol before the body of a deceased patient was even cold. It was a coping mechanism, she knew, but not necessarily one she thought she would ever adopt. There had to be something in between. Olive had been called a bleeding heart before, but her heart no longer had the same plasticity and tenderness - it was scarred and worn beyond repair ~ Andrea Lochen

Every so often, the gods stop laughing long enough to do something terrible. There are few facts that are not brutal. The bitter, insufficient truth is that God recovered, but fun is dead.
Alcohol: the antidote to civilization. Alcoholism is a fatal disease. But then I am not a member of Alcoholics Anonymous, because I don't want to be cured. Alcoholism is suicide with training wheels. I watch myself sinking, an inch at a time, and I spit into the eye of fate, like Doc Holliday, who died too weak to lift a playing card. My traitorous and degenerate attitude is sort of my book review of the world we live in. I resign from the human race. I declare myself null and void; folded, spindled, and mutilated.
. . .This bar is an oasis for the night people, the street people, the invisible tribe, the people who simply do not exist in the orderly world we see in Time - the weekly science fiction magazine published by the Pentagon - an orderly world which is a sanitized Emerald City populated by contented Munchkins who pay taxes to buy tanks, nerve gas, and bombers and not a world which is a bus-station toilet where the air is a chemical cocktail of cancer-causing agents, children are starving, and the daily agenda is kill or be killed.
When the world demands that you be larger than life, and you are finding it hard enough just being life-size, you can come here, in the messy hemorrhaging of reality, let your hair down, take your girdle off, and not be embarrassed by your ~ Gustav Hasford