I was a fool, alone, preparing to do what every fool did at such times—I was going to a bar to drink myself smart.

The hotel bar was quiet and dark, with the kind of mood that promotes good talk and serious drinking.

Need 'nether whiskey. Whiskey chaser. Gotta get two men drunk.'

Mr. Cohan placed both hands on the bar. 'Mr. Walsh,' he said severely, 'in Gavagan's we will serve a man a drink to wet his whistle, or even because his old woman has pasted him with a dornick, but a drink to get drunk with I do not sell. Now I'm telling you you've had enough for tonight, and in the morning you'll be thanking me...' ("My Brother's Keeper")

Smart people attract me while fools distract. I appreciate the presence of both, as the later group draws the line of difference.

You’re going to listen to me, and for once you’re going to hear what I say and not read between lines that aren’t there.

it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance