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Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.

The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.

Spend the afternoon. You can't take it with you.

Excuse me while I kiss the sky.

Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine.

I'd love to knock an audience cold with one note, but what do you do for the rest of the evening?

I think getting drunk is the key to flying comfortably. A couple of bloody marys or several glasses of champagne, and suddenly it's like you're on a roller coaster.

Lie on the bridge and watch the water flowing past. Or run, or wade through the swamp in your red boots. Or roll yourself up and listen to the rain falling on the roof. It's very easy to enjoy yourself.