Beer does not taste like itself unless it is chasing a dram of neat whisky down the gullet … - Compton Mackenzie - Quotesmemo.com

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My dream is to fly. Oh, my rainbow it is too high.

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Compton Mackenzie

Beer does not taste like itself unless it is chasing a dram of neat whisky down the gullet - preferably two drams

Beer, Doe, Gullet, Preferably, Two

Same Author Quotes

For me, one of the pleasures of cats company is their devotion to bodily comfort.

Bodily, Cat, Cats, Comfort, Company, Devotion

Love makes the world go round? Not at all. Whiskey makes it go round twice as fast.

Anniversary, Drinking, Fast, Humorous, Round, Twice

Women do not find it difficult nowadays to behave like men, but they often find it extremely difficult to behave like gentlemen

Behave, Extremely, Gentleman, Gentlemen, Maturity, Women

Nobody who is not prepared to spoil cats will get from them the reward they are able to give to those who do spoil them.

Animal, Cat, Give, Giving, Nobody, Spoil

The only mystery about the cat is why it ever decided to become a domestic animal.

Animal, Cat, Decided, Domestic, Mystery

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The blessing in life is when you find the torture you are comfortable with. That's marriage, it's kids, it's work, it's exercise. Find the torture you're comfortable with and you'll do well. You've mastered that, you've mastered life.

Blessing, Comfortable, Exercise, Kids, Mastered

Craig Stone

Once upon a time humans faced each other and pulled thoughts from minds, advanced rapidly, revolutionised industry and evolved explosively. Then one day they stopped, and stared at a box. They grew fat and awkward in public, stopped expressing emotions and couldn't figure out how to reverse it: they reinvented themselves from Emperors back into prawns, because someone turned the TV on.

Awkward, Day, Faced, Mind, Once Upon A Time, Public

Wallace Stevens

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She says, "But in contentment I still feel The need for imperishable bliss. " Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams And our desires. Is there no change of death in paradise? Does ripe fruit never fall? or do the boughs Hang always heavy in that perfect sky, Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth, With rivers like our own that seek for seas They never find, the same receding shores That never touch with inarticulate pang?

Death, Dream, Dreams, Mother, Pang, Rivers

Ruslana Korshunova

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My dream is to fly. Oh, my rainbow it is too high.

Dream, Fly, High, Rainbow