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“If getting drunk was how people forgot they were mortal, then hangovers were how they remembered.”
― Matt Haig, The Humans

“Hitch: making rules about drinking can be the sign of an alcoholic,' as Martin Amis once teasingly said to me. (Adorno would have savored that, as well.) Of course, watching the clock for the start-time is probably a bad sign, but here are some simple pieces of advice for the young. Don't drink on an empty stomach: the main point of the refreshment is the enhancement of food. Don't drink if you have the blues: it's a junk cure. Drink when you are in a good mood. Cheap booze is a false economy. It's not true that you shouldn't drink alone: these can be the happiest glasses you ever drain. Hangovers are another bad sign, and you should not expect to be believed if you take refuge in saying you can't properly remember last night. (If you really don't remember, that's an even worse sign.) Avoid all narcotics: these make you more boring rather than less and are not designed—as are the grape and the grain—to enliven company. Be careful about up-grading too far to single malt Scotch: when you are voyaging in rough countries it won't be easily available. Never even think about driving a car if you have taken a drop. It's much worse to see a woman drunk than a man: I don't know quite why this is true but it just is. Don't ever be responsible for it.”
― Christopher Hitchens, Hitch 22: A Memoir

“Sometimes when you get hammered till the small hours you feel pretty good in the morning, but really it's just because you're still a bit drunk. That old hangover is just toying with you, working out when to bite.”
― Jojo Moyes, Me Before You

“The only cure for a real hangover is death.”
― Robert Benchley

“I will never, ever drink whiskey again. From now on, it's strictly sherry.”
― Libba Bray, A Great and Terrible Beauty

“He shimmered out, and I sat up in bed with that rather unpleasant feeling you get sometimes that you're going to die in about five minutes.”
― P G Wodehouse

“Oh man sometimes I wake up feel like a cat runover.
Are you familiar with the stoical aspects of hard drinking, of heavy drinking? Oh it's heavy. Oh it's hard. It isn't easy. Jesus, I never meant me any harm. All I wanted was a good time.”
― Martin Amis, Money

“Fat Charlie was thirsty and his head hurt and his mouth tasted evil and his eyes were too tight in his head and all his teeth twinged and his stomach burned and his back was aching in a way that started around his knees and went up to his forehead and his brains had been removed and replaced with cotton balls and needles and pins which was why it hurt to try and think, and his eyes were not just too tight in his head but they must have rolled out in the night and been reattached with roofing nails; and now he noticed that anything louder than the gentle Brownian motion of air molecules drifting softly past each other was above his pain threshold. Also, he wished he were dead.”
― Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys

“No one paid much attention when he left. They continued to eat and drink and talk and laugh over their suffering, and occasionally run to the bathroom to be ill. It was this way more or less every night and every morning. Strangers appeared in his hotel room, always a wreck after the previous night. In the morning, they stuck themselves back together again. They rubbed at raccoon-eyed faces full of smeared makeup, looked for lost hats and feathers and beads and phone numbers and shoes and hours. It wasn't a bad life. It wouldn't last, but nothing ever did.
They would all be like Alfie in the end, crying on his sofa at dawn and regretting it all. Which was why Magnus stayed away from those kinds of problems. Keep moving. Keep dancing.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Bane Chronicles

“He dozed off, into a dreamless oblivion, for what seemed like seconds but was in fact hours, and awoke hungover, the inner surface of his skull pulsing like a single, giant nerve being chewed by some ruminant animal.”
― Alex Shakar, Luminarium

“Happiness is, waking up without a hangover.”
― Robert Black

“Some hangovers are so horrific that it seems the whole world rocks and sways around you, the very walls creaking with the motion. Others are relatively mild and it just turns out that in your drunkenness a collection of Vikings have thrown you onto a heap of coiled ropes in their longship and set to sea.

“Oh, you bastards.â€� I cracked open an eye to see a broad sail flapping overhead and gulls wheeling far above me beneath a mackerel sky.”
― Mark Lawrence, Prince of Fools

“I never met anyone who gets up out of their bed after a night on the town and says, 'Oh I wish I'd had another drink last night. That would have been a great idea”
― Arthur Mathews

“His head was pounding and his vision skewed in some way and he was vaguely amazed at being alive and not sure that it was worth it.”
― Cormac McCarthy

“Headaches are for sloths as hangovers for drunks.”
― Ahmed Mostafa

“I awakened on Monday with the impression that I might have to get up and bang my head against the wall to get my heart started.”
― John D. MacDonald, Pale Gray for Guilt

“I drank enough beer to spoil Sunday entirely, and to have a long and incoherent argument with Brendon about predestination versus free will, but I never got drunk enough to enjoy myself.”
― Danielle Hawkins, The Pretty Delicious Café

“My Dear,
These are the memories of my life as a child. This is the story of the world before I was here, the universe I was born into, that I came to love before I had to grow up, find rent and suffer hangovers. This is the story of how I became this overgrown adult with crooked teeth and scars. - Springfield Road”
― Salena Godden, Springfield Road

“Charity shook her head, struggling to get back into the flow of Lady Margaret's crisply worded presentation. Brandy brought sleep, and a temporary escape from the ache of a broken heart. But in the morning came gritty eyes, a furry tongue, and a pounding headache that made a foolish girl wince and rub her temples whenever her coolly perfect boss was looking the other way.”
― Carol Storm, Burning Captivity

“Aftershock by Stewart Stafford

Sitting by myself at the firepit,
The dregs of last night's inferno,
Still charcoal from vibrant flame,
Charred bones of the festivities.

Dropped food and empty bottles,
A littering ring, now seen in light,
The laughs and drunken banter,
Distant echoes that bring smiles.

Head throbs, chill morning breeze,
Take two pills and zip up my jacket,
Post-party blues gripping onto me,
Happiness, revisit on swiftest wings!

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Happiness is waking up without a hangover.”
― Jack Freestone