There was an Old Man with an owl, Who continued to bother and howl; He sate on a rail, and imbibed bitter ale, Which refreshed that Old Man and his owl.
There was an Old Person of Brussels, Who lived upon Brandy and Mussels; When he rushed through the town, he knocked most people down, Which distressed all the people of Brussels.
There was an Old Man of Columbia, Who was thirsty, and called out for some beer; But they brought it quite hot, in a small copper pot, Which disgusted that Man of Columbia.
I made the greater progress, from that clearness of head and quicker apprehension which generally attend temperance in eating and drinking.
I never turned to drink. It seemed to turn to me.
Beer is proof that God loves us.
He that drinks fast, pays slow. Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. There can't be good living where there is not good drinking.
[T]ea, that uniquely English meal, that unnecessary collation at which no stimulants--neither alcohol nor meat--are served, that comforting repast of which to partake is as good as second childhood.
Drunkenness is temporary suicide.
Drunkeness is temporary suicide: the happiness that it brings is merely negative, a momentary cessation of unhappiness.