Someones A Bit Drunk Quotes

Erienne closed the door and leaned against it as she frowned at Farrell. He had caught his good arm about the balustrade and was trying to steady himself while he tugged feebly at the ties of his cloak.
"Eriennie, give yer li'l Farrell a hand with 'is rebesh ... uh ... rebelush garment. It willn't leave me as I bid it." He grinned apologetically and lifted his crippled arm in helpless appeal.
"Fine time for you to be coming home," she admonished, helping him out of the recalcitrant cloak. "Have you no shame?"
"None!" he declared, attempting a gallant bow. His efforts caused him to lose his precarious balance, and he began to totter backward.
-Farrell & Erienne ~ Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Returning to the library, Marcus saw Lillian lying on her back on the carpeted floor. His first thought was that she must have drifted into oblivion, but as he approached, he saw that she was holding a long wooden cylinder in her free hand, and squinting through one end. "I found it," she exclaimed in triumph. "The kaleidoscope. It's verrrry interesting. But not quite what I 'spected."
Silently he reached out, plucked the instrument from her hand, and gave her the other end to look through.
Lillian promptly gasped in amazement. "Oh, that's lovely ... How does it work?"
"One end is fitted with strategically placed panels of silvered glass, and then ... " His voice faded as she turned the thing toward him.
"My lord," she pronounced in solemn concern, viewing him through the cylinder, "you have three ... hundred ... eyes." She dissolved into a fit of giggles that shook her until she dropped the kaleidoscope. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Q. This may be a bit gruesome, but ... if someone's DNA suddenly vanished, how long would that person last? ~ Randall Munroe

I don't know why people don't want to talk about their numbers. I guess in a sense, there's a bit of performer nudity, a bit of ego nudity when you expose your numbers, I guess because someone's are higher or someone's are lower. I've never really talked about the numbers with anyone, so maybe I'm not supposed to. ~ Chris Hardwick

Well, to tell you the truth, I've thought of it often and often before, but he's such devilish good company is Huntingdon, after all - you can't imagine what a jovial good fellow he is when he's not fairly drunk, only just primed or half-seas-over - we all have a bit of a liking for him at the bottom of our hearts, though we can't respect him.'
'But should you wish yourself to be like him?'
'No, I'd rather be like myself, bad as I am. ~ Anne Bronte

Somehow: Molly.
He heard her in the entryway. Mol, Molly, oh boy. When they were first married they used to fight. Say the most insane things. Afterward, sometimes there would be tears. Tears in bed? And then they would - Molly pressing her hot wet face against his hot wet face. They were sorry, they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone's affection for you expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing he'd ever -
She came in flustered and apologetic, a touch of anger in her face. He'd embarrassed her. He saw that. He'd embarrassed her by doing something that showed she hadn't sufficiently noticed him needing her. She'd been too busy nursing him to notice how scared he was. She was angry at him for pulling this stunt and ashamed of herself for feeling angry at him in his hour of need, and was trying to put the shame and anger behind her now so she could do what might be needed.
All of this was in her face. He knew her so well.
Also concern.
Overriding everything else in that lovely face was concern.
She came to him now, stumbling a bit on a swell in the floor of this stranger's house. ~ George Saunders

I find that's one of the great things about acting-you have the opportunity to stand in somebody else's shoes. Each character faces a dilemma in her life, and as an actor you're able to step into that character's skin, look through her eyes. You leave transformed, a different person, because once you live a little bit of someone's life, it changes you. ~ Sally Field

Vhat ozzer abilities do you haf?" ter Borcht snapped, which his assistant waited, pen in hand.
Gazzy thought. "I have X-ray vision," he said. He peered at ter Borcht's chest, then blinked and looked alarmed.
Ter Borcht was startled for a second, but then he frowned. "Don't write dat down," he told his assistant in irritation. The assistant froze in midsentence.
"You. Do you haf any qualities dat distinguish you in any way?"
Nudge chewed on a fingernail. "You mean, like, besides the WINGS?" She shook her shoulders gently, and her beautiful fawn-colored wings unfolded a bit.
His face flushed, and I felt like cheering. "Yes," he said stiffly. "Besides de vings."
"Hmm. Besides de vings." Nudge tapped one finger against her chin. "Um..." Her face brightened. "I once ate nine Snickers bars in one sitting. Without barfing. That was a record!"
"Hardly a special talent," ter Borcht said witheringly.
Nudge was offended. "Yeah? Let's see YOU do it."
...
"I vill now eat nine Snickers bars," Gazzy said in a perfect, creepy imitation of ter Borcht's voice, "visout bahfing."
Iggy rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Well, I have a highly developed sense of irony."
Ter Borcht tsked. "You are a liability to your group. I assume you alvays hold on to someone's shirt, yes? Following dem closely?"
"Only when I'm trying to steal their dessert"
...Fang pretended to think, gazing up at the ceiling. "Besides my fashion sense? I pl ~ James Patterson

What are you doing here, anyway? You don't strike me as the speed dating type.'
'I lost a bet with Alfie,' he says. 'You met him at The Cow that day . . .?' Waistcoat Guy, I think, nodding. 'I said to him that if you didn't text me back then I'd try speed dating, because I'm officially the worst single man in London.'
'You're not!' I say. 'I mean, it wasn't a bad date. I was just . . .'
'Don't say you were drunk! It's the biggest post-sex insult ever.'
'. . . drunk, I mean drinking, a bit more than I ought, and I was, uh, cringing at the thought that I'd been a nightmare date.'
'No. You were great,' says Mark/Skinny Jeans.
'Actually, the biggest post-sex insult is "we did?"' says Robert. 'But that's another story. ~ Gemma Burgess

I'm not cheating," Sabella said, her gaze meeting Kira's. Something inside her loosened. Something fell into place, but she was just too damned tipsy to realize what it was. "Am I?"
"Oh dear, trust me." Kira smiled back at her. "The last thing you're doing is cheating. You can take that one to the bank."
Glasses clinked, refilled, and the three women sat back and proceeded to get outrageously tipsy. Well, Sabella thought several hours later as Ian walked in and stared at them in shock, maybe they were a little bit drunk. ~ Lora Leigh

We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English. ~ Winston S. Churchill

So I died many times that year.
In the cold, in the storm, on the run or on the drunk for my heart did not want to beat
but kept on beating anyway
and my pain was as real as real can be,
and I tried to learn and deal and run and feel
but nothing really worked.

I built a comfortable home in my sorrow and settled into a quiet living. No sparks or grand gestures, just a simple daily hymn to comfort. The leaves fell off the trees and coloured this city in all kinds of pretty, and some days that was enough to make me smile at least a little bit, within. ~ Charlotte Eriksson

You don't know what someone's going to walk away from a movie with, but you hope it's something positive, but if nothing, you want them most basically to be entertained and engaged. That's your job. But you also hope to give them something to chew on or maybe some insight into the human existence, you hope a little bit. Not to sound too lofty. ~ Melissa Rosenberg

I feel like someone's going to see my hot pocket if the wind blows this thing up a bit."
I snorted. "Gram! ~ Micalea Smeltzer

There's a vorg loose," Meroka explained. "In case that escaped your attention. Ricasso's doing his bit for Swarm, trying to kill the thing before it sucks someone's brains out. Now he might be able to find time in his schedule to file that paperwork you need, but I'm guessing it's going to be a stretch, what with a monster on the loose and the ship being in a state of fucking emergency and all." She smiled sweetly. "So, what's it going to be? You going to let them out, or do I have to get, you know, truculent. ~ Alastair Reynolds

The photograph showed a young couple smiling at the camera. The man didn't look much older than seventeen or eighteen, with light-coloured hair and delicate, aristocratic features. The woman may have been a bit younger, one or two years at the most. She had pale skin and a finely chiselled face framed by
short black hair. She looked drunk with happiness. The man had his arm round her waist, and she seemed to be whispering something to him in a teasing way. The image conveyed a warmth that drew a smile from me, as if I had recognized two old friends in those strangers. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zafon

I'm telling you, you bastard, you're going to pay for that rum. In gold or goods, I don't care which."
"Captain Mallory." Gray's baritone was forbidding. "And I apply that title loosely, as you are no manner of captain in my estimation…I have no intention of compensating you for the loss of your cargo. I will, however, accept your thanks."
"My thanks? For what?"
"For what?" Now O'Shea entered the mix. "For saving that heap of a ship and your worthless, rum-soaked arse, that's what."
"I'll thank you to go to hell," the gravelly voice answered. Mallory, she presumed. "You can't just board a man's craft and pitch a hold full of spirits into the sea. Right knaves, you lot."
"Oh, now we're the knaves, are we?" Gray asked. "I should have let that ship explode around your ears, you despicable sot. Knaves, indeed."
"Well, if you're such virtuous, charitable gents, then how come I'm trussed like a pig?" Sophia craned her neck and pushed the hatch open a bit further. Across the deck, she saw a pair of split-toed boots tied together with rope.
Gray answered, "We had to bind you last night because you were drunk out of your skull. And we're keeping you bound now because you're sober and still out of your skull."
The lashed boots shuffled across the deck, toward Gray. "Let me loose of these ropes, you blackguard, and I'll pound you straight out of your skull into oblivion."
O'Shea responded with a stream of colorful profanity, which Captain Gra ~ Tessa Dare

Women do get drunk, they do get sick and they do get food poisoning. It seems to be a bit of a surprise to people that they are seeing it. ~ Kristen Wiig

Sometimes when you get hammered till the small hours you feel pretty good in the morning, but really it's just because you're still a bit drunk. That old hangover is just toying with you, working out when to bite. ~ Jojo Moyes

Doctor, doctor! I'm on a diet and it's making me irritable. Yesterday I bit someone's ear off. Oh, dear, that's a lot of protein! ~ Various

On New Year's Eve, when the children had gone up the hill to be with their father, I went to a Mensa party in San Francisco, but returned home relatively early, wanting to face the first few hours of the new year away from the noise and lurching of people who had drunk too much. I stood outside on the deck, in darkness, looking up at the star-frosted sky, letting myself feel without censoring the ache and hope that belonged to that night, and I sent out prayer for connection with someone who would be --finally -- the person I'd needed to be with all my life, someone who would have gone through his own changes and wars of the spirit and emerged a true adult. A grown-up man. Who wouldn't mind my being a grandmother, for Pete's sake. A man somewhat like Shura Borodin -- or what Shura seemed to be.
I cried a bit because the wanting was so very intense and the clear night sky so very indifferent, and everything I was in body and soul might yet grow old without a lover and friend who could be to me what I was capable of being to him. I toasted myself, hope, the new year and the magnificent cold stars with a bit of wine, then went to bed. ~ Ann Shulgin

Do you think that civilization advances because of things written in books? Not a bit of what is written in books ever got there until after the thought of it happened in someone's mind. Someone first had to collect it from space, or recollect it from its electrical pattern to which he (or she) had been attuned. The book is but a record of what has already happened. ~ Walter Russell

Right after Matt died, I was afraid to do basically everything. I couldn't even bite my nails or sniff my shirt to see if I needed deodorant without feeling like he was watching me. I willed and prayed and begged him to give me a sign that he was watching, that he was with me, so I would know.
But he never did. Time moved on. And I stopped being afraid. Until right now, vulnerable and insecure and a little bit drunk. Lying in the sand and falling in crazy love with someone I just met. Matt is watching me. Observing. Possibly judging. And the worst part of it is, I don't want to wake up under his landslide of sad rocks anymore. I don't want to taste the marzipan frosting and the clove cigarettes. I don't want to think about the blue glass necklace or the books he read to me on his bed or the piles of college stuff or some random boy in the grocery store wearing his donated clothes.
I don't want to be the dead boy's best-friend-turned-something-else.
Or the really supportive neighbor friend.
Or the lifelong keeper of broken-hearted secrets. ~ Sarah Ockler

I had all kinds of answers ready for the commissions that called me in and asked me what had made me become a Communist, but what had attracted me to the movement more than anything, dazzled me, was the feeling (real or apparent) of standing near the wheel of history. For in those days we actually did decide the fate of men and events, especially at the universities; in those early years there were very few Communists on the faculty, and the Communists in the student body ran the universities almost single-handed, making decisions on academic staffing, teaching reform, and the curriculum. The intoxication we experienced is commonly known as the intoxication of power, but (with a bit of good will) I could choose less severe words: we were bewitched by history; we were drunk with the thought of jumping on its back and feeling it beneath us; admittedly, in most cases the result was an ugly lust for power, but (as all human affairs are ambiguous) there was still (and especially, perhaps, in us, the young), an altogether idealistic illusion that we were inaugurating a human era in which man (all men) would be neither outside history, nor under the heel of history, but would create and direct it. ~ Milan Kundera

And for some reason, there seems to be no internal policeman for a bully that says maybe you're hurting somebody's feelings. Or worse, maybe you're going to push this perons too far and they'll do something terrible. Something's not processing correctly in a bully's head. It doesn't seem to occur to them that what they're doing is corssing a line that shouldn't be crossed. And it's really, in my mind, no different than taking on defenseless kids. You do it just because you can.
It's an exercise in power; but it's also meant to dinsintegrate someone's Self. It's meant to take away their sense of who they are. And why? Because they're not as strong, or as bit, or as witty.
Bullies are ball-less, soul-less creatures to me. And they're not just children, they're adults too.
It's a terrorist act.
It's meant to make you feel afraid. It's meant to make you feel powerless to take care of the situation you find yourself in. ~ Whoopi Goldberg

But ideas are a bit like dandelions. Like a tiny seed clinging to an explorer's boot, an idea can cross the Atlantic lodged in the back of someone's head. ~ James West Davidson

Drink up," he says,
"being a little drunk
makes everything
a little bit
better. ~ Hosho McCreesh

What do you think of this stuff?' he asked.

I looked at the bottle and discovered that it contained a miracle udder liniment, guaranteed to reduce pain and swelling. 'I've seen the ad in the Dairy Exporter, but that's about it,' I said. 'Does it work?' Personally I doubted that it would, since it's a bit of a stretch to ask something you rub on the skin to kill the bacteria lurking in the tissues ten centimetres down, but I had learnt through bitter experience that belittling someone's pet alternative treatment is almost as offensive as telling them their kid looks funny. (My all-time low was attending a cat after-hours wearing a T-shirt which read Homeopathy, making damn-all difference since 1796, and then learning that the cat's owner was a certified homeopath.) ~ Danielle Hawkins

I think, you're not blagging me on this ridiculous journey, with this bit of paper. I think if you want to change things, it's not with an X on a piece of paper, it's with an X on someone's forehead. ~ Russell Brand

Sylvie's sort of pregnant. Well not sort of. She is. Pregnant. Actually pregnant with a baby.'
'Oh Dexter! Do you know the father? I'm kidding! Congratulations, Dex. God, aren't you meant to space your bombshells out a bit. Not just drop them all at once?'
She held his face in both hands, looked at it.
'You're getting married?-'
'Yes'
-'And you're going to be a father?'
'I know! Fuck me a father!'
'Is that allowed? I mean will they let you?'
'Apparently'
'I think it's wonderful. Fucking hell, Dexter, I turn my back for one minute ... !'
She hugged him once again her arms high round his neck. She felt drunk, full of affection and a certain sadness too, as if something was coming to an end. She wanted to say something along these lines, but thought it best to do this through a joke.
'Of course you've destroyed any chance I had of future happiness, but I'm delighted for you, really. ~ David Nicholls

Because the truth was, there was a dark underbelly of terror to motherhood. You loved your children with such an overwhelming fierceness that you were absolutely vulnerable at every moment of every day: They could be taken from you. Somehow, you could lose them. You could stop at the corner to buy a newspaper when a drunk driver veered onto the sidewalk. You could feed your child an E. coli-tainted hamburger. You could turn your head for a second while one darted out into the street. The threats to your child were infinite. And the thing was, if any of your children's lives were ruined, even a little bit, yours wold be, too. ~ Katherine Center

Miss Dearheart gave him a very brief look, and shook her head. There was movement under the table, a small fleshy kind of noise and the drunk suddenly bent forward, colour draining from his face. Probably only he and Moist heard Miss Dearheart purr: 'What is sticking in your foot is a Mitzy "Pretty Lucretia" four-inch heel, the most dangerous footwear in the world. Considered as pounds per square inch, it's like being trodden on by a very pointy elephant. Now, I know what you're thinking: you're thinking, "Could she press it all the way through to the floor?" And, you know, I'm not sure about that myself. The sole of your boot might give me a bit of trouble, but nothing else will. But that's not the worrying part. The worrying part is that I was forced practically at knifepoint to take ballet lessons as a child, which means I can kick like a mule; you are sitting in front of me; and I have another shoe . Good, I can see you have worked that out. I'm going to withdraw the heel now.'

There was a small 'pop' from under the table. With great care the man stood up, turned and, without a backward glance, lurched unsteadily away.

'Can I bother you?' said Moist. Miss Dearheart nodded, and he sat down, with his legs crossed. 'He was only a drunk,' he ventured.

'Yes, men say that sort of thing,' said Miss Dearheart. ~ Terry Pratchett

I don't believe that the rough and tumble nature of children, especially boys is inherently wrong. We see in nature, bear cubs, deer, goats, puppies, especially males, play rough with each other. We're not animals, so we do try to civilize things a bit, but that rough and tumble play creates an environment where children are strengthened, and they learn that their bodies endure pain a certain way. They also learn empathy, when they see that a twisted arm hurts, they are less likely to twist someone's arm. This unstructured type of play isn't suited for classrooms, where six years olds are expected to sit at a desk and work for more than eight hours a day, and so it is discouraged. Children do not have the opportunity to properly express those natural tendencies to compete, to wrestle, or to express the emotions behind those desires. ~ Josh Hatcher

When people suggest that what, all along, has been holding women back is other women bitching about each other, I think they're severely overestimating the power of a catty zinger during a cigarette break. We have to remember that snidely saying, "Her hair's a bit limp on top" isn't what's keeping womankind from closing the 30 percent pay gap and a place on the board of directors. I think that's more likely to be down to tens of thousands of years of ingrained social, political, and economic misogyny and the patriarchy, tbh. That's just got slightly more leverage than a gag about someone's bad trousers. ~ Caitlin Moran

It changes you a little bit every time you either break someone's heart or get your heart broken. ~ Amanda Seyfried

I can do this, I tell myself firmly. I can be attracted to him. It's just a matter of self control and possibly also getting very drunk. So I lift my glass and take several huge gulps. I can feel the bubbles surging into my head, singing happily "I'm going to be a millionaire's wife! I'm going to be a millionaire's wife!" And when I look back at Tarquin, he already looks a bit more attractive. Alcohol is obviously going to be the key to our marital status. ~ Sophie Kinsella

A lot of my friends have tattoos; I realized that it's not only just a part of pop culture, but a bit of a map on someone's body, which says something about people. A part of their life, like an armor or a crest. ~ Christian Louboutin

By the following morning, Anthony was drunk. By afternoon, he was hungover.
His head was pounding, his ears were ringing, and his brothers, who had been surprised to discover him
in such a state at
their club, were talking far too loudly.
Anthony put his hands over his ears and groaned.Everyone was talking far too loudly.
"Kate boot you out of the house?" Colin asked, grabbing a walnut from a large pewter dish in the middle
their table and
splitting it open with a viciously loud crack.
Anthony lifted his head just far enough to glare at him.
Benedict watched his brother with raised brows and the vaguest hint of a smirk. "She definitely booted
him out," he said to Colin. "Hand me one of those walnuts, will you?"
Colin tossed one across the table. "Do you want the crackers as well?"
Benedict shook his head and grinned as he held up a fat, leather-bound book. "Much more satisfying to
smash them."
"Don't," Anthony bit out, his hand shooting out to grab the book, "even think about it."
"Ears a bit sensitive this afternoon, are they?"
If Anthony had had a pistol, he would have shot them both, hang the noise.
"If I might offer you a piece of advice?" Colin said, munching on his walnut.
"You might not," Anthony replied. He looked up. Colin was chewing with his mouth open. As this had
been strictly forbidden while growing up in their household, Anthony could only deduce that Colin was
d ~ Julia Quinn

Feltock bit the inside of his cheek. Then he said, 'And you think you remember everyone who was there that day?'
I thought about it for a moment. 'Not everyone, 'I replied. Feltock was looking at me intently, trying to see if I knew, if I did remember. More trouble than it will be worth, I thought, but I was a little drunk and a little tired so I said, 'But since you're asking, yes, General Feltock, I remember you.'
Feltock's eyes went wide for a moment, but then he gave a bitter laugh. 'Not "General", 'he said. 'Not for a few years now. 'We drank some more in silence. 'So,'he said, uncrossing his legs with a crack. 'Are you gonna come for me next, boy?'
I sighed. 'No.'
'Why not? I was there, wasn't I? I was one of those what took down your King, wasn't I? So what's the difference between me and Lynniac?'
'You didn't laugh. 'He just looked at me for a while and then said, 'Huh'. Then he stood up and started walking back to the wagons.
'Why "Captain"Feltock?' I asked when he was a few paces away. 'Why aren't you a general any more?'
Feltock turned and gave me a sour grin. He tossed the rest of his wineskin back to me.
'Because, boy, when they put the King's head on that pole, I forgot to laugh. ~ Sebastien De Castell

You were so good to me."
He took a drink. "Only because you were the daughter of a friend. Were you anyone else I would have plucked you that first season." Just how much honesty did he owe her? Because surely this was a bit much.
She didn't look nearly as disgusted as she should have. She merely looked…disappointed. That was worse. Necessary, but worse.
"But you're not that man anymore," she reminded him.
Grey smiled, but there was little humor in it. "Who's to say? I really don't want to find out. Do you?"
She looked away, a frown knitting her delicate brow. He wanted to reach out and smooth that pucker away with his thumb, kiss her flesh smooth again. Hold her and tell her that he could be whatever she wanted him to be.
"I understand why you despise society," she said after a moment's pause. "I wanted to tell you that." She drained the rest of her drink and stood. She didn't quite meet his gaze.
"You do?" Color him astonished. He truly hadn't thought she'd ever see it.
She nodded, looking so remote and stiff-not his Rose at all. But she placed her hand on his shoulder as she walked by-a gesture of comfort? "I would avoid it as well if it reviled me as much as it reviles you. Good night, Grey."
And when she left him sitting there, drunk and about to get drunker, what little self-respect he had left got up and went with her. ~ Kathryn Smith

He bit his fingernails. He bit his toenails. He pulled tiny green threads from his shirt and tried flossing his teeth. Then he tried making little green designs with tiny, tiny knots. Then he hit on the idea of weaving messages. Could he macramé "Help, I am a prisoner . . ." and plant it on the back of someone's jacket by static charge? If someone ever came back, that is? He got as far as a delicate gossamer H, E, L, caught the thread on a hangnail while rubbing his stubbled chin, and reduced his plea to an illegible green wad. He pulled another thread and started over. ~ Lois McMaster Bujold

A cell phone rings. I can feel the vibration through Brittany's pants.
"It's hers," I say.
"Answer it," Isa Instructs.
I already feel like I've kidnapped the girl. Now I'm gonna answer her cell? Shit. Rolling her a bit, I feel for the bulge in her back pocket.
"Contesta," Isa whispers loudly, this time in Spanish.
"I am," I hiss, my fingers clumsy as I fumble for the phone.
"I'll do it," Paco says, leaning over the seats and reaching toward Brittany's ass.
I whack his hand away. "Get your hands off her."
"Geez, man, I was just tryin' to help."
My response is a glare. ~ Simone Elkeles

My advice for achieving success is to make a career choice that reflects your passion. Then work your craft a little bit each day-even if someone's not paying you to do It. Try to balance your social life with your educational (or professional) life, and have patience. ~ Giancarlo Esposito

Paulson, what the hell are you doing at my party?" Michael asked, a bit drunk.
"Don't worry, asshole. I'm not staying. I was just wondering why you are texting Nicolette."
"I would have thought for a smart guy that it would be obvious." Michael slurred his words. "I wanted to invite Nicolette and her friends over here to party with us."
"Well, you see, Nicolette has all the friends she needs and respectively declines your invitation."
"Is that coming from Nicolette or from you, Simon?" Michael was now suddenly sober.
"It's coming from me, so stay away from her." I started to walk away.
Michael bravely said, "What if I don't, Simon? What will you do about it?"
I just turned around and simply replied, "You don't want to know the answer to that, Michael. ~ Mary A. Wasowski

I like a fragrance that you notice and want to find out more about - get a bit closer. I don't want to walk in and be jolted awake by someone's smell. ~ Chris Pine

A king is a living symbol, a beating heart, a star upon which Elfhame's future is written. Surely you have noticed that since his reign began, the isles are different. Storms come in faster. Colors are a bit more vivid, smells are sharper.... When he becomes drunk, his subjects becomes tipsy without knowing why. When his blood falls, things grow. ~ Holly Black

I felt isolated in my misery. I became lonely, so I drank a bit, and then a bit more, and then I became lonelier, because no one likes being around a drunk. I lost and I drank and I drank and I lost. ~ Paula Hawkins