There are, broadly speaking, two types of drinkers. There is the man whom we all know, stupid, unimaginative, whose brain is bitten numbly by numb maggots; who walks generously with wide-spread, tentative legs, falls frequently in the gutter, and who sees, in the extremity of his ecstasy, blue mice and pink elephants.... The other type of drinker has imagination, vision. Even when most pleasantly jingled he walks straight and naturally, never staggers nor falls, and knows just where he is and what he is doing. It is not his body but his brain that is drunken.

I am. I was. I am not. I never am.

I was five years old the first time I got drunk.

The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances.

So I was drinking tequila, and I was drinking grappa, which is Italian for gasoline, and I was drinking Jagermeister, which I believe is the liquid equivalent …

And I got so drunk, I got so drunk that I actually woke up thinking, 'Should I get up and pee, or just pee in the bed?' Actually weighing the pros and the cons…

When the wine goes in, strange things come out.