Liquid Courage Quotes

“Last call. It was about that time. He’d probably been drinking liquid courage all night, waiting for his chance to hit on her. I had little choice in assuming he was a three-time loser with a wad-of-cash to wave around and a bozo smile to boot. About to prate his many accomplishments as a man of the world and his travels among the world’s top markets.”
― Bruce Crown, Forlorn Passions

“Does love make the world go around? Well yes. But whiskey makes it go around twice as fast.”
― James Hauenstein

“I'd love to cook," she says, "but who has the time? I can't afford to spend two days baking a cake."
The implication, of course, is that only unimportant people have that kind of time. Unimportant people like me. I wait for Adam to jump in and save me, but instead he shoves a forkful of lamb into his mouth and feigns deep interest in the contents of his dinner plate. For someone with Adam's political ambitions and penchant for friendly debate, I'm always amazed at the lengths he goes to avoid confrontation with his parents.
"I have a full-time job," I say, offering Sandy a labored smile, "and somehow I manage."
Sandy delicately places her fork on the table and interlaces her fingers. "I beg your pardon?"
My cheeks flush, and all the champagne and wine rush to my head at once. "All I'm saying is... we make time for the things we actually want to do. That's all."
Sandy purses her lips and sweeps her hair away from her face with the back of her hand. "Hannah, dear, I am very busy. I am on the board of three charities and am hosting two galas this year. It's not a matter of wanting to cook. I simply have more important things to do."
For a woman so different from my own mother- the frosted, well-groomed socialite to my mother's mousy, rumpled academic- she and my mother share a remarkably similar view of the role of cooking in a modern woman's life. For them, cooking is an irrelevant hobby, an amusement for women who lack the brains for more high-powered pursuits or the money to pay someone to perform such a humdrum chore. Sandy Prescott and my mother would agree on very little, but as women who have been liberated from the perfunctory task of cooking a nightly dinner, they would see eye to eye on my intense interest in the culinary arts.
Were I a stronger person, someone more in control of her faculties who has not drunk multiple glasses of champagne, I would probably let Sandy's remark go without commenting any further. But I cannot be that person. At least not tonight. Not when Sandy is suggesting, as it seems everyone does, that cooking isn't a priority worthy of a serious person's time.
"You would make the time if you wanted to," I say. "But obviously you don't.”
― Dana Bate, The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs

“I still gotta try bone marrow, though."
I groan. "Oh, god. Please don't remind me of that conversation."
"What? I thought it was enlightening." He wags his eyebrows.
My knees buckle.
"Yeah, right," I mutter, fighting back a smile. I yank off my glasses. "I still can't believe I said those words to you," I mutter as I clean my lenses with the hem of my ratty T-shirt.
"What words?"
I tilt my head at him. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Refresh my memory."
Maybe it's the two glasses of whiskey playing tricks on my perception, but I could swear there's a teasing undercurrent to Max's softly growled request.
"Um, okay." I glance down at my scuffed white sneakers to buy myself an extra second to figure out how I want to play this.
But then I stop myself. Why overthink it? I've spent the past year and a half crushing on Max and being too freaked out to do anything about it. I need to just live in the moment and say exactly what I'm thinking.
"I still can't believe I went on and on about sucking and licking and tonguing in front of you yesterday morning."
I'm proud of the way I maintain unwavering eye contact with Max as I speak the words that sent me into a humiliation spiral yesterday. But today? Today those words earn me a sexy crooked grin. And right now I feel like a brazen badass for having the guts to say them again.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore