He panted over me, winded by his own absurd lecture. The stench of his alcoholic breath stung my nose. Again I didn’t answer. I hoped he’d tire out and end his speech and hobble back to the living room without touching me. Such hopes were unlikely, as was the case this time. “Answer me, you good-for-nu thin’ wench!” The pain bit instantly as his hand connected with my cheek. I shook my head in answer to his crazy questions, feeling a rise of warm tears.

— Richelle E. Goodrich

His eyes are so clear and blue that nothing but clichés enter my mind.

— Augusten Burroughs

His laugh is made of porch swings and lemonade.

— Augusten Burroughs

How is that for some people drinking is a short-term loan on the spirit, but for others a heavy mortgage on the soul?

— Sebastian Barry

I am made of a thousand ghosts, only you can shoot me down.

— Bella James

I believe in 'Positives' not Negatives the only thing about Alcohol I'm Powerless over is those Damn Taxes

— Stanley Victor Paskavich

I cannot trust my other side, my drunken side, to act in my best interests anymore.

— Robert Black

I carried a bravado about my drinking like I was a hero of debauchery. But on that Christmas Day, I felt like shit. I had a vague realization that I was just trying to keep up with some version of myself that I had decided was accurate.

— Nadia Bolz-Weber

I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)

— Barbara Blatner

I didn't recognize it as such then, because I was only thirteen years old, but later I found it a bit ironic that my first time seeing a woman in all her form and glory and saggy drug-tainted tits, arrived at the same exact time as my first introduction to death.

— Dave Matthes