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Quotes / Sentimental Drunk

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Next thing you know, you got a couple more beers, you've got a friend in a headlock going "I love you, you little fucker, I love you! That's the kind of love I have for you, baby, goddamn it..."
Robin Williams, Live At The Met

Bingo's heart was flush with new comradeship and love. He sobbed like a child, trying to hug Mori and unburden his heart, to say how he'd always felt somehow distanced from the other soddits, as if there was something that held him back from them, and held them back from him – it wasn't easy to say what exactly, but on occasion he'd stand at his door with a glass of dry hobbld martini in his hand and watch the evening traffic making its way up Hobbld-Ahoy! high-street and over the bridge into the thickening gloom and feel, somehow, a great emptiness inside himself, a sense of purposelessness of it all – the way the narrow respectability of his world felt sometimes like a suffocating velvet cloak – and all along the thing he'd been missing was right here, this sense of purpose, belonging to this band of brothers, united in a common aim.
Sadly the ale, which provoked this chain of thought in Bingo's mind, also prevented the articulate expression of it, and the best he could manage was a "such-a-lovely-buncho-blokes-lovely-feller-love-you" and a further series of throaty syllables like the noise a dog makes just before it throws up.
The Soddit

That does it, of course. All we can do now is get rat-arsed, and to hell with the lot of it. I'm dying, Brendan's dying, I can't help him, he can't help me, and God help both of us if He can be bothered. I pinned all my hopes on Brendan, and I'm sure he did the same thing with me, and what a waste of time it all turned out as. And thank Christ we did it, because I'm pissed and happy and I'm with my mate. Thank bloody Christ.
John Constantine, Hellblazer: A Drop Of The Hard Stuff

Gerry "The Hairdo" Torciano: Phil, you know the wine makes you emotional.
Phil Leotardo: Because I got an empty fuckin' stomach.

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