Punch Drunk Love Quotes

I wished for death," he whispered, and the words took the smile from both our lips.
His gaze met mine again, this time it was earnest and beseeching. "I knew I could not leave you behind, so I planned to kill you first. I could not. I sat here with the pistol at your head for a long time. I thought of...how much you loved me, that you would make such a request, and...I could not. So I am chained here in this life, with you." He shook his head quickly. "Non, that did not sound as it should. I...will not betray you by leaving you alone, and I cannot take you with me, so I will remain, because I love you. ~ W.A. Hoffman

The film Punch - Drunk Love is how you see the world when you're in love. You don't see somebody's psychological baggage necessarily, you see the person walking out of the light. ~ Emily Watson

The family watched It's a Wonderful Life, which is a very beautiful movie and all I could think was why didn't they make a movie about uncle Billy? ... Because he was a drunk and fat and lost all that money in the first place. I wanted an angel to come down and show us how uncle Billy's life had meaning ~ Stephen Chbosky

They will never see the knife in your hand if they are lost in your eyes. They will never taste the poison in their wine when they are drunk on the sight of you." A small shrug. "Beauty simply makes it easier, love. Easier than you have it now. It may be sad. It may be wrong. But it is also true. ~ Jay Kristoff

I have a sickness doctors can't cure,
Inexorably pulling me to the well of my destruction,
Consented to be a sacrifice, killed for her love,
Eager, like the drunk gulping wine mixed with poison,
Shameless were those my nights,
Yet my soul loved them beyond all passion. ~ Ibn Hazm

The sport of skiing consists of wearing three thousand dollars worth of clothes and equipment and driving two hundred miles in the snow in order to stand around at a bar and get drunk. ~ P. J. O'Rourke

I might get drunk one day and fall in love or fall over a hooker outside, and I would have consummated a relationship that I couldn't necessarily believe in. ~ Oliver Reed

Be near me now,
My tormenter, my love, be near me -
At this hour when night comes down,
When, having drunk from the gash of sunset, darkness comes
With the balm of musk in its hands, its diamond lancets,
When it comes with cries of lamentation,
with laughter with songs;
Its blue-gray anklets of pain clinking with every step.
At this hour when hearts, deep in their hiding places,
Have begun to hope once more, when they start their vigil
For hands still enfolded in sleeves;
When wine being poured makes the sound
of inconsolable children
who, though you try with all your heart,
cannot be soothed.
When whatever you want to do cannot be done,
When nothing is of any use;
- At this hour when night comes down,
When night comes, dragging its long face,
dressed in mourning,
Be with me,
My tormenter, my love, be near me. ~ Faiz Ahmad Faiz

I know some who are constantly drunk on books as other men are drunk on whiskey. ~ H.L. Mencken

Gwynn, she was always talking about wanting to be drunk and honestly I did want to encourage that, I wanted to go to a bar with her and let all the stuff sobriety pushed down be released so I could catch it in my palms and finally kiss her. She was just so sad. Melancholy was a fleshy wave permanently cresting on her face, she had to speak through it when she talked. ~ Michelle Tea

I love all men and women. I am a lover of humanity, not a hater. ... I have been immoral, drunk, high. I ran with the wicked people for 28 years and I have run with the Jesus people since and the contrast is astounding. ~ Phil Robertson

I want to die.
I want die by drowning in love.
I want to die by becoming drunk,
by drinking the pure wine of love.
I want to die in an accident,
By falling in love and
breaking my heart.
I want to die by losing
in the game of love. ~ Debasish Mridha

Drunk on imagination, that's my kind of intoxication. ~ Melody Lee

Its true. We did go in that room together and yes we were going to…you know… but Logan was so drunk. Like really drunk. He could barely see or walk or talk properly. But when he did all he kept talking about was you." Rose said somberly.
"Like what?" Sienna asked skeptically.

"At first about how much he hated you, how he hated your dad, and your mom, then he started saying how he hated the fact that you could throw a football better than half the guys, how you pretend you don't get dirty jokes when he knows you do, how you taste like strawberries and how he hates it when you smile 'cos when you do, it lights up the sky." She said sincerely. ~ Ali Harper

As Ted sat, feeling the evolution of the afternoon, he found himself thinking of Susan. Not the slightly different version of Susan, but Susan herself - his wife - on a day many years ago, before Ted had begun folding up his desire into the tiny shape it had become. On a trip to New York, riding the Staten Island Ferry for fun, because neither one of them had ever done it, Susan turned to him suddenly and said, "Let's make sure it's always like this." And so entwined were their thoughts at that point that Ted knew exactly why she'd said it: not because they'd made love that morning or drunk a bottle of Pouilly-Fuisse at lunch - because she'd felt the passage of time. And then Ted felt it, too, in the leaping brown water, the scudding boats and wind - motion, chaos everywhere - and he'd held Susan's hand and said, "Always. It will always be like this. ~ Jennifer Egan

Orphan Wisdom is a teaching house and a learning house for the skills of making human culture.

Knowledge, in an information-drunk, competence addicted culture like our own, must be the life-tested skill of gathering what is needed to make life without killing life in the gathering.

Wisdom is the place where knowledge is fired, forged, and annealed to become something of great beauty, useful to the world.

Human Culture is made when that beauty swells into life and dies to nourish a time we won't live to see.

Knowledge gathers wood and flint and gut. Wisdom conjures a cranky, playable fiddle from the gatherings. People who have been bathed in the grief and love for life play some small magnificence on those fiddles together, and sing their unknown songs, and make human culture. ~ Stephen Jenkinson

When the subject turns to abortion, cosmetic intervention, birth, motherhood, sex, love, work, misogyny, fear, or just how you feel in your own skin, women still won't often tell the truth to each other unless they are very, very drunk. Perhaps the endlessly reported rise in female binge-drinking is simply modern women's attempt to communicate with each other. Or maybe it is because Sancerre is so very delicious. To be honest, I'll take bets on either. ~ Caitlin Moran

Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell,' Holly advised him. 'That was Doc's mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky."
"She's drunk," Joe Bell informed me.
"Moderately," Holly confessed ... Holly lifted her martini. "Let's wish the Doc luck, too," she said, touching her glass against mine. "Good luck: and believe me, dearest Doc
it's better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear. ~ Truman Capote

My friend once told me
she liked this guy because of his hands
And I found it absurd that anyone
would develop feelings over one feature,
and not care about the rest

It wasn't until you used your hands
to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed
and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer,
and my insides exploded
and my head buzzed with bliss.

And the first night you slept over,
you fell asleep with your hand
laid over my stomach
and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn't mind burning my skin.

The first time we got drunk,
was the first time you played with my hair,
and my god I was hooked,
I'd drink forever if it meant you'd never stop.

And in public you'd hold my hand,
and rub your thumb in little circles
that left me wanting you more,
no matter what you would never let me go,
I was glued to you,
and I honestly didn't mind

When we talked about breaking up,
you saw my lips quiver with fear,
and you brushed over my lips with your fingers
before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.
With your hands on my hips
pulling me so close to you,
leaving no space in between us.
It was then I realized I never wanted you to go

Its now that,
I finally understand why hands
were the only feature that mattered. ~ Carol Shlyakhova

Yes, an old-fashioned feminist "consciousness-raising" still has enormous value. When the subject turns to abortion, cosmetic intervention, birth, motherhood, sex, love, work, misogyny, fear, or just how you feel in your own skin, women still won't often tell the truth to each other unless they are very, very drunk. ~ Caitlin Moran

An age-old city is like a pond. With its colours and reflections. Its chills and murk. Its ferment, its sorcery, its hidden life.

A city is like a woman, with a woman's desires and dislikes. Her abandon and restraint. Her reserve - above all, her reserve.

To get to the heart of a city, to learn its most subtle secrets, takes infinite tenderness, and patience sometimes to the point of despair. It calls for an artlessly delicate touch, a more or less unconditional love. Over centuries.

Time works for those who place themselves beyond time.

You're no true Parisian, you do not know your city, if you haven't experienced its ghosts. To become imbued with shades of grey, to blend into the drab obscurity of blind spots, to join the clammy crowd that emerges, or seeps, at certain times of day from the metros, railway stations, cinemas or churches, to feel a silent and distant brotherhood with the lonely wanderer, the dreamer in his shy solitude, the crank, the beggar, even the drunk - all this entails a long and difficult apprenticeship, a knowledge of people and places that only years of patient observation can confer. ~ Jacques Yonnet

Some bruises you wear like badges of honour: when you got it playing rugby, or quad racing, or falling off something while drunk, no opportunity is lost to show off a good contusion. A bruise inflicted by someone else, however, is a whole other story: it's like a big flashing arrow marking you out as punchable, and before long there'll be boys queuing up to add bruises of their own, as if they'd just been waiting for somebody to show them it could be done. ~ Paul Murray

I don't drink because I have problems or I want to escape. I just love drinking and being drunk. ~ Richard Harris

My sister is running away to get lost, but I am running away because I want to find something. And my parents love me so much that they want to help me. Yeah, Dad is a drunk and Mom is an ex-drunk, but they don't want their kids to be drunks. ~ Sherman Alexie

I love her like a slave. I kneel in front of her like a subject. I crawl back to her at night like a drunk and I worship her like a believer. ~ L.J. Shen

To speak in a flat voice
Is all that I can do.
I have gone every place
Asking for you.
Wondering where to turn
And how the search would end
And the last streetlight spin
Above me blind.

Then I returned rebuffed
And saw under the sun
The race not to the swift
Nor the battle won.
Liston dives in the tank,
Lord, in Lewiston, Maine,
And Ernie Doty's drunk
In hell again.

And Jenny, oh my Jenny
Whom I love, rhyme be damned,
Has broken her spare beauty
In a whorehouse old.
She left her new baby
In a bus-station can,
And sprightly danced away
Through Jacksontown.

Which is a place I know,
One where I got picked up
A few shrunk years ago
By a good cop.
Believe it, Lord, or not.
Don't ask me who he was.
I speak of flat defeat
In a flat voice.

I have gone forward with
Some, a few lonely some.
They have fallen to death.
I die with them.
Lord, I have loved Thy cursed,
The beauty of Thy house:
Come down. Come down. Why dost
Thou hide thy face? ~ James Wright

Common sense got drunk and giddy when Olivia was on the premises. Maybe he should just raise a glass, too, and dub reason a lost cause. ~ Kelly Moran

And the truth is that I'm not, Ed, is what I wanted to tell you. I'm not arty like everyone says who doesn't know me, I don't paint, I can't draw, I play no instrument, I can't sing. I'm not in plays, I wanted to say, I don't write poems. I can't dance except tipsy at dances. I'm not athletic, I'm not a goth or a cheerleader, I'm not treasurer or co-captain. I'm not gay and out and proud, I'm not that kid from Sri Lanka, not a triplet, a prep, a drunk, a genius, a hippie, a Christian, a slut, not even one of those super-Jewish girls with a yarmulke gang wishing everyone a happy Sukkoth. I'm not anything, this is what I realized ... I like movies, everyone knows I do
I love them
but I will never be in charge of one because my ideas are stupid and wrong in my head. There's nothing different about that, nothing fascinating, interesting, worth looking at. ~ Daniel Handler

Well, the gods love a man who laughs at hardship." "Hardship is boring as all hell. Gotta find laughs if you can't stay drunk, ~ Scott Lynch

Wherever your heart rests There I will live and be blessed I've tried to line up the things I Needed to say but now my feelings just Tumble from me. I am half foolish, Half drunk with wanting you With wanting to take your hand And leap into the darkness of whatever Life will bring. Love makes me Brave and without love I'm made Nothing. ~ Walter Dean Myers

True, you're not a slave. You're worse off than that by a long, long way. You're a predatory beast shut up in a cage of which the bars aren't fixed, solid objects you can gnaw at or in despair batter against with your head until you get punch-drunk and stop worrying. No, those bars are the competing members of your own species, at least as cunning as you on average, forever shifting around so you can't pin them down, liable to get in your way without the least warning, disorienting your personal environment until you want to grab a gun or an axe and turn mucker. ~ John Brunner

Now I know why I have struggled with my drinking all these years 'cause I see your face every time I pick a glass. ~ Soroosh Shahrivar

A Design For Life"

Libraries gave us power
Then work came and made us free
What price now for a shallow piece of dignity

I wish I had a bottle
Right here in my dirty face to wear the scars
To show from where I came

We don't talk about love we only want to get drunk
And we are not allowed to spend
As we are told that this is the end

A design for life
A design for life
A design for life
A design for life

I wish I had a bottle
Right here in my pretty face to wear the scars
To show from where I came

We don't talk about love we only want to get drunk
And we are not allowed to spend
As we are told that this is the end

A design for life
A design for life
A design for life
A design for life

We don't talk about love we only want to get drunk
And we are not allowed to spend
As we are told that this is the end

A design for life
A design for life
A design for life
A design for... ~ Manic Street Preachers

Breaking the circle"

My eyes darken when I see my new lover. Fresh prey.
My body doesn't really react in a sexual way.
It's the devil inside me that celebrates next conquest.
We exchange meaningless sweet words.
His hungry gaze penetrates my breasts and ass.
Another drink and laughter.
And then another one.
Sometimes I get very drunk or high.
And then I don't feel him between my legs.
I don't see his sweating face.
I don't hear his moans and questions if I came.
I can't stay sober when I cheat on you.
I'm such a coward that I can't even face this inner monster.
It consumes me, it takes away my dignity.
It makes me do horrible things.
It hurts you, the only one who ever loved me.
Who knows what I really am.
No. It's not the monster. It's me. I am the whore.
I dig my nails into your soft flesh until it bleeds.
I am the one pushing you away, feasting on your kindness.
I blame those hard punches of my past for my infidelity.
Those cruel hands. Those hateful words.
I try not to, I really do.
I try to be a better person.
But how can I if I am just nobody?
You know why I leave. Yet you stay. You're there when I'm back.
With your sorrow and cry and resentment and wrath.
Why?
If I'm broken because of my pain what's your excuse?
Why do you keep letting me treat you like a stray dog?
Don't you have any respect for yourself? ~ Asper Blurry

Well, one shouldn't smoke when he's drunk and one mustn't fall in love with a girl who isn't the right religion. ~ Cynthia Freeman