Drown in a cold vat of whiskey? Death, where is thy sting?
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Whiskey is all right in its place - but its place is hell.
Whiskey will always be a part of my life.
I can't drink whiskey like I used to back then, that's for sure.
Drunkenness is temporary suicide.
Death will never be pretty - its sights and smells too close and crude. And it will never come under our control: it gallops where we tiptoe, rips up our routines, burns our very breath with its heat and sting.
Always carry a flagon of whiskey in case of snakebite and furthermore always carry a small snake.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
O conscience, upright and stainless, how bitter a sting to thee is a little fault!
I mean, Sting is one of my great buddies and I love him to death.
I remember my mother finding mud somehow and putting it on the sting.