“Oh I have been to Ludlow fair, and left my necktie God knows where. And carried half way home, or near, pints and quarts of Ludlow beer.”

Tell me not here, it needs not saying, What tune the enchantress plays In aftermaths of soft September Or under blanching mays, For she and I were long acquainted And I knew all her ways.

Here dead lie we because we did not choose to live and shame the land from which we sprung. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose; but young men think it is, and we were young.

The mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind.

A moment’s thought would have shown him. But a moment is a long time, and thought is a painful process.

Three minutes thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.

Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.

They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man’s.

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.

The rainy Pleiads wester Orion plunges prone, And midnight strikes and hastens, And I lie down alone.

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.

We now to peace and darkness And earth and thee restore Thy creature that thou madest And wilt cast forth no more.

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

There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.

Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.

They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.

Beauty is in the hand of the beer holder. Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.

I feel sorry for people who do not have a Bible to lean on.

You can only drink 30 or 40 glasses of beer a day.

It is my aim to win the american people over to our side.

To make them all lovers of beer.

I suspect states are going to realize there’s money to be made, and they’ll start to change laws so people can distil to sell. It happened with wine, it happened with beer.

If in 1989 I said, ‘I have an idea: Bottle water and sell it. And charge more than a beer,’ they would have chased me around with a giant butterfly net. The same with paying to watch a television station.

I’ve never read anything about heroin where, yeah, it’s a good experience, and you can do it for 20 years and enjoy it, like having a cold beer. It doesn’t work that way with heroin.