Back then, if you didn't make whiskey, you knew somebody who did.

That could have been the whale that swallowed Jonah.

I'll be 80 years old next month. I'll never get through telling her my life. I don't have all the time it would take.

Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.

Whiskey, like a beautiful woman, demands appreciation. You gaze first, then it's time to drink.

Whisky nosers, as they called themselves, eschewed what they saw as the pretentiousness of wine vocabulary. While oenophiles resorted to recondite adjectives, whisky nosers spoke the language of everyday life, detecting hints of stale seaweed, or even diesel fuel.