Scotch Quotes
Quotes tagged as "scotch"
Showing 1-27 of 27
“Hitch: making rules about drinking can be the sign of an alcoholic,' as Martin Amis once teasingly said to me. (Adorno would have savored that, as well.) Of course, watching the clock for the start-time is probably a bad sign, but here are some simple pieces of advice for the young. Don't drink on an empty stomach: the main point of the refreshment is the enhancement of food. Don't drink if you have the blues: it's a junk cure. Drink when you are in a good mood. Cheap booze is a false economy. It's not true that you shouldn't drink alone: these can be the happiest glasses you ever drain. Hangovers are another bad sign, and you should not expect to be believed if you take refuge in saying you can't properly remember last night. (If you really don't remember, that's an even worse sign.) Avoid all narcotics: these make you more boring rather than less and are not designed—as are the grape and the grain—to enliven company. Be careful about up-grading too far to single malt Scotch: when you are voyaging in rough countries it won't be easily available. Never even think about driving a car if you have taken a drop. It's much worse to see a woman drunk than a man: I don't know quite why this is true but it just is. Don't ever be responsible for it.”
― Hitch 22: A Memoir
― Hitch 22: A Memoir
“Language can't describe reality. Literature has no stable reference, no real meaning. Each reader's interpretation is equally valid, more important than the author's intention. In fact, nothing in life has meaning. Reality is subjective. Values and truths are subjective. Life itself is a kind of illusion. Blah, blah, blah, let's have another scotch.”
― False Memory
― False Memory
“Her cuisine is limited but she has as good an idea of breakfast as a Scotchwoman."
[Sherlock Holmes, on Mrs. Hudson's cooking.]”
― The Naval Treaty - a Sherlock Holmes Short Story
[Sherlock Holmes, on Mrs. Hudson's cooking.]”
― The Naval Treaty - a Sherlock Holmes Short Story
“But I know, with all the certainty of my being, that Jesus has no interest in my doing this. To just say, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I'm your biggest fan," causes him to stare at his watch, tap his feet, and order a double Glenlivet on the rocks with a twist. Fandom is of no interest to Jesus. What matters to him is the authentic following of a disciple. We all settle for saying, "Jesus," but Jesus wants us to be in the world who he is.”
― Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship
― Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship
“Alan Campbell opened one eye.
From somewhere in remote distances, muffled beyond sight or sound, his soul crawled back painfully, through subterranean corridors, up into his body again. Toward the last it moved to a cacophony of hammers and lights.
Then he was awake.
The first eye was bad enough. But, when he opened his second eye, such as rush of anguish flowed through his brain that he hastily closed them again.”
― The Case of the Constant Suicides
From somewhere in remote distances, muffled beyond sight or sound, his soul crawled back painfully, through subterranean corridors, up into his body again. Toward the last it moved to a cacophony of hammers and lights.
Then he was awake.
The first eye was bad enough. But, when he opened his second eye, such as rush of anguish flowed through his brain that he hastily closed them again.”
― The Case of the Constant Suicides
“As a man gets older, his regrets changes. Especially when he's gotten into the Scotch.”
― The Forgotten Man
― The Forgotten Man
“I mulled over what he had told me as I savored the Scotch. Not bad, really — like a beer that’s been in a brawl.”
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“She poured us some more Scotch. It didn't seem to affect her any more than water affects Boulder Dam.”
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“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.”
― Strangers on a Train
― Strangers on a Train
“To be certain you're consuming the real deal, look carefully at the label. W-h-i-s-k-e-y indicates the heavenly liquid from the Emerald Isle. Without the "e," it's from Scotland or some other godforsaken place.”
― F*ck You, I'm Irish: Why We Irish Are Awesome
― F*ck You, I'm Irish: Why We Irish Are Awesome
“In addition to the smells of mince and pumpkin pies, the Sage and onions of turkey stuffing, another aroma floated in the air, the very essence of Santa Claus.
Years later, when I was grown up, I still remembered that marvelous fragrance and recognized it as Scotch whisky.”
― The Gawgon and the Boy
Years later, when I was grown up, I still remembered that marvelous fragrance and recognized it as Scotch whisky.”
― The Gawgon and the Boy
“After all, Christmastide is the time of year for warming brandies, for assertive burgundies and meaty Medoc wines, and for gladsome whiskies. And an Islay malt: well, this is the octave of St Andrew, and you will doubtless recall that he is not only the patron saint of Alba, of Scotland, but was also a fisherman. How better to toast my favorite apostle (he being all the things I personally am not, starting with humble and self-effacing) than with the sea-salty dram of an Islay whisky?”
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“The Scots language is a mark of the distinctive identity of the Scottish people; and as such we should be concerned to preserve it, even if there were no other reason, because it is ours. This statement requires neither explanation nor apology.”
― Why Scots matters
― Why Scots matters
“How deluded we sometimes are by the clear notions we get out of books. They make us think that we really understand things of which we have no practical knowledge at all. I remember how learnedly and enthusiastically I could talk for hours about mysticism and the experiential knowledge of God, and all the while I was stoking the fires of the argument with Scotch and soda.”
― The Seven Storey Mountain
― The Seven Storey Mountain
“Ah," Anselmo took the cup, put his head back and let it run down his throat. He looked at Maria standing holding the bottle and winked at her, tears coming from both his eyes. "That," he said. "That." Then he licked his lips. "That is what kills the worm that haunts us.”
― For Whom the Bell Tolls
― For Whom the Bell Tolls
“I sipped my scotch. It was smoky and smooth, tasting of peat and aged oak, underscored by licorice and the intangible essence of Scottish masculinity. I liked my scotch undiluted, like I liked my truth.”
― The Sympathizer
― The Sympathizer
“Ma kept the alcohol for company in the dining room china cabinet. All the sweet after-dinner liqueurs nestle there together. But there is one bottle she never knew about right here in the kitchen. I reach deep into the cabinets and remove Dad's hidden bottle of Lagavulin. I set a tumbler on the counter and pour him two fingers of scotch. 'This is a tumbler, watch it tumble,' he said. The golden brown liquid, more gold than brown, somewhere between weak tea and apple juice. I stare at it. Nothing.
Out loud I say, "This is a tumbler, watch it tumble," an incantation or a toast or both, and drink it down.
It's like drinking a handful of matches. It burns and then smokes. I fight back a cough. There's a note of something deep and earthy, like beets or truffles, which then vanishes, leaving only a palate seared clean.”
― The Kitchen Daughter
Out loud I say, "This is a tumbler, watch it tumble," an incantation or a toast or both, and drink it down.
It's like drinking a handful of matches. It burns and then smokes. I fight back a cough. There's a note of something deep and earthy, like beets or truffles, which then vanishes, leaving only a palate seared clean.”
― The Kitchen Daughter
“Political correctness waters down the arts. It's like getting a beer, when you need a scotch.”
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“You could drink hard liquor in the middle of a school day without people assuming you were an alcoholic underachiever. Strange how in America in the 1950s, at the height of its industrial and imperial power, men drank double-martinis for lunch. Now, in its decline, they drank fizzy water. Somewhere something had gone terribly wrong.”
― Thank You for Smoking
― Thank You for Smoking
“She took the glass he offered her and drank deeply, then grimaced and shuddered, staring in horror at the contents. “That’s ghastly. What is it?” “Hundred-year-old scotch.” “No wonder it tastes so vile. Do you have anything more recently brewed?”
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“Political correctness maybe the flavour of the month politically, but in arts, it will always come across as weak, and not very true to life, like having a beer when you need a scotch”
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“You never dump scotch, like a weak bitch. It will always keep you awake, keep you going, if you want it to.”
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“On the question of Worthing versus Brighton, I am totally with Oscar Wilde in his preference for Worthing. Brighton always felt to me to have a scratchy unfriendly energy, whereas Worthing has a wonderfully dark, but inviting spiritual energy. In Worthing, when wandering around drunk on scotch I always expected to meet friendly ghosts, whereas in Brighton I always expected to encounter politically motivated scratchy people. I always preferred the friendly locals.”
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