Bar Quotes

“There has ling been a happy symbiotic relationship between kitchen and bar. Simply put, the kitchen wants booze, and the bartender wants food.”
― Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

“It was the kind of bar where everybody knew your name, as long as your name was ‘Motherfucker’.”
― John Connolly, A Time of Torment

“Grow your talents and skills through a consistent practice and progressive learning. Learn to relearn and unlearn. Raise the bar for yourself always.”
― Israelmore Ayivor, Become a Better You

“She came towards me with a juicy gash between her legs that smelled like my best friend's sister"

Just when I thought I'd escaped them all
She comes reeling herself in
pulling at my strings
her hand quick to find my zipper
She moaned the way a drunk old lady does
And I wasn't even inside her yet

"You don't have anywhere else to be," she managed to say...
"My wounds have been reopened tonight already," I muttered

I caught wind of the gully
...the part of her she once kept sacred as a Christian
I smelled the information
I lifted my hand into the air and hailed a cab
He rolled down his window and saw her
"Find another cab," he said,
and sped off into the night

I took her home
because she said she was lonely
really she was drunk off something
some memory or some choice
she walked funny...
-one of her heels had broken

On the couch I left her,
Before I could go, she grabbed my cock
I slapped her across the face and she pulled harder
Her eyes stayed closed
Her lips dripped
Her grip clenched
I wasn't getting out of this one unscathed

"If I take my pants off, will you let me go?" I asked
"If you take your pants off, I'll be suckin' that cock till you pass out from all the screamin'..."

I slapped her again, because she needed it
She laughed
Saying her cousin beat her harder
Saying her father knew how to really...
...make things happen
I asked her what her father's number was
Let's get his motherfucking self up here to take you away, that's what I said
She said he died, or killed himself
"What's the difference really," she said, chewing on her hair

She let go of my cock on her own accord
And she opened her eyes for a moment
She closed them again
And I could tell she was sleeping

Her eyes opened once more
Her face red where I'd hit her
She tasted the blood on her lip
"Do you think if we remind ourselves enough, we can make up for all the pain we've caused others?"

I said to her, "We can't. All we can do is keep ourselves from all those who don't deserve it.”
― Dave Matthes, Strange Rainfall on the Rooftops of People Watchers: Poems and Stories

“The hotel bar was quiet and dark, with the kind of mood that promotes good talk and serious drinking.”
― George R.R. Martin, Dreamsongs, Volume I

“~Posters with torn edges hanging from rotten walls~

The doctor told me something once
she said
STOP DRINKING
I slapped her across the face with this
NO
I walked right out of that office
went right down to the hole
I told the bartender
WHISKEY, MOTHERFUCKER
he poured and he poured
and I slapped my money down on that bar
the man I had been driving around with
he just sort of sat there next to this hooker
she probably had something rotten
way down there between her legs
her eyes told of no soul
I emptied the bottle down my throat
and ordered some chips
the bartender told me
THEY'RE STALE
and I give him a
I DON'T FUCKIN' CARE,
GIVE ME SOMETHIN'
He slid me a ham sandwich dripping with cheap low-fat mayo and said
ENJOY
I went back to my room
and talked all night
so much conversation
it turned the toilet bowl pale”
― Dave Matthes, Strange Rainfall on the Rooftops of People Watchers: Poems and Stories

“By drinking, a boy acts like a man. After drinking, many a man acts like a boy.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“When your partner is regularly going out to bars and nightclubs and does not come home until after sunrise, it is likely that they are engaging in some form of infidelity.”
― Steven Magee

“Let me put it this way. Canada is not so much a country as a holding tank filled with the disgruntled progeny of defeated peoples.”
― Mordecai Richler

“Sitting on a bar stool and sipping a shot of Jack Daniel's washed down by a cold bottle of beer is an impeccable routine. I cannot think of a better ritual.”
― John E. Quinlan, Tau Bada The Quest and Memoir of a Vulnerable Man

“He wanted to stay there, at the bar, around people but not involved with them.”
― Jeff VanderMeer, Authority

“Corrigan crept up to the bar, cautiously moving around it. It looked like he was copying all the moves he’d seen in old cop movies and westerns, and doing it rather badly. He lowered the pistol. There was no one behind the bar. There was however, an open trapdoor. And that would mean the bounty hunter was - .
“Don’t move!” Came Beck’s distant, slightly muffled, barked order. “My turn, I think!”
― Christina Engela, Black Sunrise

“Did you know the Death Star had a bar? Ugly, austere little place – really like all Imperial architecture, ugh – and the selection of spirits was hardly commendable.”
― Chuck Wendig, Life Debt

“Hi, Lloyd, a little slow tonight isn't it?'

Lloyd said it was. Lloyd asked him what would it be.

'Now I'm really glad you asked me that, really glad. Because I happen to have two twenties and two tens in my wallet and I was afraid they'd be sitting right there until sometime next April. There isn't a 7-Eleven around here, would you believe it? And I thought they had 7-Elevens on the fucking moon.'

Lloyd sympathized.

'So here's what, you set me up an even twenty martinis...One for every month I've been on the wagon and one to grow on. You can do that, can't you? You aren't too busy?

Lloyd said he wasn't busy at all.

'Good man. You line those martinis up right along the bar and I'm going to take them down, one by one. White man's burden, Lloyd my man.'

Lloyd turned to do the job. Jack reached into his pocket for the money clip and came out with an Excedrin bottle instead.

'I seem to be momentarily light,' Jack said. 'How's my credit in this joint, anyhow?'

Lloyd said his credit was fine.

'That's super. I like you, Lloyd. You were always the best of them. Best damned barkeep between Barre and Portland, Maine. Portland, Oregon for that matter.”
― Stephen King, The Shining

“Don’t just raise the bar… Raise the roof.”
― A.D. Posey

“Raise the bar for yourself, increase, improve and inspire others to do same. Never miss the success of each day!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, Become a Better You

“You don’t want none of this, man. Stay out of it.” Preppy looked around Syn, obviously wanting some more of Furious.

“Maybe I do.” Syn looked bored and then thought for a second. If he broke this kid’s jaw, that could be his damn promotion. Just when the kid looked like he wanted to start something, Syn pulled his badge. “Maybe a night in lock-up will get you to shut the fuck up.”

Syn heard the guy he punched groaning and looked at him, not wanting to find himself attacked from behind too. What he was surprised to not find was Furious. Syn pulled out his cell and called 911, he gave his name and badge number and told dispatch he had a few drunk and disorderlies that needed clearing out.

Syn desperately wanted to find Furious. He knew the man was alright. Surely he was able to take a gut punch, but he wanted to talk to him. Syn knew he may have already fucked up. Without thinking, he’d pushed Furi behind him like he couldn’t defend himself. But when Syn saw the pain of that punch flash over the man’s beautiful face, his protective instincts rose with a vengeance and he’d acted. He looked back and forth from the bar, to the door, to the college assholes, wanting to run and find Furi, but he couldn’t leave his perps unattended until the uniforms got there.”
― A. E. Via

“Cool. I know an awesome spot called Henry’s. They have the absolute best beer selections and the wings are great. They also have darts and pool.”

Furi stopped talking when he noticed Syn looking a little pale. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Uh, nothing.” They were in Syn’s old faithful truck and Furi sat silently watching the man next to him.

“We going or what?” Furi narrowed his eyes, staring at the side of Syn’s face. His jaw was clenched and his neck was flushed. What the hell?

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”



Syn thought he was going to be sick. It was just his goddamn luck that Furi would suggest the one place where half the department liked to hang out. Hell, even his Lieutenants frequented this place. It would be cruel to subject Furi to Day’s inappropriateness so soon. Syn wasn’t necessarily afraid of being with a man; he just wasn’t the type to make his personal life public. Or am I scared? Fuck. Syn didn’t think Furi would go for keeping them a secret. The man had made that quite clear when they were in the alley.

Syn gripped the steering wheel and willed his foot to press the accelerator. Maybe … just maybe, there wouldn’t be anyone familiar there. Syn drove under the speed limit and felt Furious’ probing eyes on the side of his face. He tried to smile and keep his jaw from showing his nervous tick.

Despite his efforts, they got there in what felt like record time. Furious got out and waited for Syn to slowly make his way toward the entrance.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Furious asked, annoyed.

“I’m good. Really. Good. Perfect,” Syn said, mentally kicking himself for sounding like an idiot.

Furi took his hand in his and it took every ounce of Syn's willpower not to pull his hand back. Of course he’d be into PDA. Furious pulled open the door and walked in as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It was almost nine p.m. and the though it wasn’t packed, there were quite a few people there. Syn tried not to look around, keeping his eyes on the back of Furious’ head as he led them to a booth; thankfully located in the back of the bar, where it was a little bit darker. Syn made sure to sit so he was facing the door while Furi sat opposite of him.

Furi didn’t speak. He picked up one of the menus and started to look through it. “First time out with a man?”

Syn's head snapped his up from hiding behind his menu. “Uh. Yeah, but ya know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Furi answered quickly. “If you didn’t want to come out, why didn’t you just say so? You look like you're about to pull a disguise out of your coat. Or do you plan to just stay hidden behind your menu all fucking evening?”

“Furious.”

“Although that’s going to make eating really difficult. Should I be prepared for you to fake a stomach ache?”

“Enough,” Syn barked, Furious’ dark eyes widening at his tone. “Look, cut me some slack alright? I am not new to dating men. I’m new to dating: period. Just about all of my adult life I’ve focused on being a cop, a damn good cop. I had little time for anything else in my life including dates. Dating takes time and patience, two things I didn't have. I was prepared to accept being alone the rest of my life until I saw you. I wanted you, and I was more than willing to take the time and effort to be with you. So forgive me if I don’t do everything exactly right on our first date.”

“I’m not expecting you to. I haven’t dated in years myself. But one thing I’m not concerned about is being ashamed.” Furi looked Syn dead in the eye.

Syn didn’t have a chance to respond, the waitress came to set a pail of peanuts on the table. Speaking in a cheerful voice: “What can I get you guys to drink?”
― A.E. Via

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” Day snapped each word this time.

"You’re not the only one that can track your lover,” God said smugly while holding up his phone with the application still open.

Day’s mouth fell open and the shade of red he turned was priceless. He decided to get rid of their excess company and take Day back with him. God looked at Day’s date and put on his best run-for-your-life face and spat menacingly. “Leave. Now.”

“No,” Day spoke before his date could move. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Mick.”

God looked back to Day and spoke in a harsh growl without moving his eyes from his partner’s. “Mick, I say leave now. He says to stay. Whatever will you do?”

Mick turned and ran so fast his image turned into a blur.
“That takes care of that,” God said.

Day pushed God out of his space and turned to walk away without another word.”
― A. E. Via

“His colleagues at the Bar called him Filth, but not out of irony. It was because he was considered to be the source of the old joke, Failed In London Try Hong Kong. It was said that he had fled the London Bar, very young, very poor, on a sudden whim just after the War, and had done magnificently well in Hong Kong from the start. Being a modest man, they said, he had called himself a parvenu, a fraud, a carefree spirit.
Filth in fact was no great maker of jokes, was not at all modest about his work and seldom, except in great extremity, went in for whims. He was loved, however, admired, laughed at kindly and still much discussed many years after retirement.”
― Jane Gardam, Old Filth

“Taking in the scents of very high-end colognes and perfumes, a whiff of Joy, a trace of Shalini, equally exquisite whiskeys and wines, a mossy Islay, Lagavulin perhaps, first-growth Bordeaux, Latour definitely, a distant hint of Cohiba, Grace headed towards the bar. A melange of fascinating and captivating foods, spiced Kobe beef bao buns and Georgia shrimp and grits souffle and warm Coca-Cola chocolate cake, wafted from a variety of restaurants and open spaces to where Grace stood at the entrance, a cozy intimate living room-like space populated by a very well-dressed, well-heeled, and decidedly young crowd, to which Grace looked as though she belonged.”
― Jeffrey Stepakoff, The Orchard

“The lushery, much like myself, is covered in a layer of grime that succeeds in filling the area with a miserable kind of murkiness, much like the soot that swathes over the city I call home.”
― Ilse V. Rensburg, Blood Sipper

“Well, you musta pissed in someone’s apple juice,” Trevor said, clapping a hand on Kieran’s shoulder.

“Haven’t we all.” Kieran cast one look around this tragedy of a bar, consisting of overturned tables, pools of black blood from the two dead rakshasas, and a dead, slumped over bartender.”
― Katherine McIntyre, Captivating Melody

“While I struggled with the menu, a handsome middle-aged guy from a nearby table came over to help. "You like sashimi? Cooked fish? Sushi?" he asked. His English was excellent. He was originally from Okinawa, he said, and a member of Rotary International. I know nothing about the Rotarians except that it's a service organization; helping befuddled foreigners order food in bars must fall within its definition of charitable service. Our service-oriented neighbor helped us order pressed sweetfish sushi, kisu fish tempura, and butter-sauteed scallops. Dredging up a vague Oishinbo memory, I also ordered broiled sweetfish, a seasonal delicacy said to taste vaguely of melon.
While we started in on our sushi, our waitress- the kind of harried diner waitress who would call customers "hon" in an American restaurant- delivered a huge, beautiful steamed flounder with soy sauce, mirin, and chunks of creamy tofu. "From that guy," she said, indicating the Rotarian samaritan. We retaliated with a large bottle of beer for him and his friend (the friend came over to thank us, with much bowing). What would happen at your neighborhood bar if a couple of confused foreigners came in with a child and didn't even know how to order a drink? Would someone send them a free fish? I should add that it's not exactly common to bring children to an izakaya, but it's not frowned upon, either; also, not every izakaya is equally welcoming. Some, I have heard, are more clubby and are skeptical of nonregulars, whatever their nationality. But I didn't encounter any places like that.
Oh, how was the food? So much of the seafood we eat in the U.S., even in Seattle, is previously frozen, slightly past its prime, or both. All of the seafood at our local izakaya was jump-up-and-bite-you fresh. This was most obvious in the flounder and the scallops. A mild fish, steamed, lightly seasoned, and served with tofu does not sound like a recipe for memorable eating, but it was. The butter-sauteed scallops, meanwhile, would have been at home at a New England seaside shack. They were served with a lettuce and tomato salad and a dollop of mayo. The shellfish were cooked and seasoned perfectly. I've never had a better scallop.”
― Matthew Amster-Burton, Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo

“We took a short ride on the Oedo line and surfaced near a sashimi-oriented izakaya called Uoshin. The upstairs counter snaked through the room so everyone could have a seat at the bar, and tucked into nooks at various parts of the arrangement were white-coated chefs, each with a knife and a wooden board full of freshly sliced sashimi. We ordered a few selections from the board, and then Mark, who is apparently one of those wiry guys with a boundless appetite, started calling for cooked food; gesoyaki (grilled squid tentacles, one of my favorites), tamagoyaki (seasoned rolled omelet, and yellow-tail teriyaki, all of which were exceptionally good, especially the meaty broiled yellowtail with its sweet and salty glaze.”
― Matthew Amster-Burton, Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo

“She finds it hard to believe how he finds every guy she likes as a moron. Will she realize he's trying to raise her bar? And it stops at him.”
― Nitya Prakash

“Don't dare to bargain my bar, you should be drunken”
― Dr.P.S. Jagadeesh Kumar

“a day sitting at a dock is not the same as a day sitting in a dock in court.
taking charge is not the same as being charged in court.
receiving a grade is not the same as receiving a judgment in court.
having a winning ticket in a raffle is not the same as a having a ticket in traffic court
being called to the bar IS the same as being called to a bar in a club – both events are for joyous celebration!!”
― Nicole Hassell

“For years I've bled the orange and black, and for what? Look at all of us now. It's done us no favors. I don't miss shit; so don't preach to me about the goddamn game, boy.”
― Michael Dault, The Sons of Summer

“That's how it works, the barmaid gets tips, i get tipsy.”
― Alain Bremond-Torrent, "Darling, it's not only about sex"