There is no bad whiskey. There are only some whiskeys that aren't as good as others.

Alan Campbell opened one eye.From somewhere in remote distances, muffled beyond sight or sound, his soul crawled back painfully, through subterranean corridors, up into his body again. Toward the last it moved to a cacophony of hammers and lights. Then he was awake.The first eye was bad enough. But, when he opened his second eye, such as rush of anguish flowed through his brain that he hastily closed them again.

He smelled of cigarettes and whiskey, the smell of Cambridge and youth.

Drown in a cold vat of whiskey? Death, where is thy sting?

The only thing we chase our shots with are high-fives.

Beer bottles, whiskey bottles, brown glass, green. They fell to the lawn and I'd feel serene. Adam was king to my stilted queen.

Never delay kissing a pretty girl or opening a bottle of whiskey.

Well,” he sighed, squeezing my hand back. “I guess we were both running away in different ways.”“What do you mean?”Dad shook his head. “Your mother took a Mustang. I took a whiskey bottle.” He reached up and readjusted his glasses, an unconscious habit-he always did it when he was making a point. “I was so devastated by what your mother did to me that I forgot how horrible drinking is. I forgot to look on the bright side.”“Dad,” I said, “I don’t think there is a bright side to divorce. It’s a pretty sucky thing all around.”He nodded. “Maybe that’s true, but there are a lot of bright sides to my life. I have a job I like, a nice house in a good neighborhood, and a wonderful daughter.”I rolled my eyes. “Oh God,” I muttered. “Don’t go all Lifetime movie on me. Seriously.”“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling. “But I mean it. A lot of people would kill for my life, but I didn’t even consider that. I took it-and you-for granted. I’m so, so sorry for that, Bumblebee.

We got more provisions for our whiskey than the same money, which we paid for the liquor, would have bought; so after all it proved a very profitable investment.

It was so quiet, a reservation kind of quiet, where you can hear somebody drinking whiskey on the rocks three miles away.