Whether you drink Whisky, Whiskey or Bourbon, you are in the company of a number of the planet’s greatest minds and characters. Winston Churchill, James Joyce and Mark Twain all enjoyed a dram, and they had no problems about talking openly about their love for Whisk(e)y.
The light music of whiskey falling into a glass—an agreeable interlude.
Sweat gave his famous “If-by-whiskey” speech to the Mississippi legislature in 1953.
“I had not intended to discuss this controversial subject at this particular time. However, I want you to know that I do not shun controversy. On the contrary, I will take a stand on any issue at any time, regardless of how fraught with controversy it might be. You have asked me how I feel about whiskey. All right, here is how I feel about whiskey.
If when you say whiskey you mean the devil’s brew, the poison scourge, the bloody monster, that defiles innocence, dethrones reason, destroys the home, creates misery and poverty, yea, literally takes the bread from the mouths of little children; if you mean the evil drink that topples the Christian man and woman from the pinnacle of righteous, gracious living into the bottomless pit of degradation, and despair, and shame and helplessness, and hopelessness, then certainly I am against it.
But; If when you say whiskey you mean the oil of conversation, the philosophic wine, the ale that is consumed when good fellows get together, that puts a song in their hearts and laughter on their lips, and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes; if you mean Christmas cheer; if you mean the stimulating drink that puts the spring in the old gentleman’s step on a frosty, crispy morning; if you mean the drink which enables a man to magnify his joy, and his happiness, and to forget, if only for a little while, life’s great tragedies, and heartaches, and sorrows; if you mean that drink, the sale of which pours into our treasuries untold millions of dollars, which are used to provide tender care for our little crippled children, our blind, our deaf, our dumb, our pitiful aged and infirm; to build highways and hospitals and schools, then certainly I am for it.
This is my stand. I will not retreat from it. I will not compromise.
Whiskey, like a beautiful woman, demands appreciation. You gaze first, then it’s time to drink.
Drown in a cold vat of whiskey? Death, where is thy sting?
My God, so much I like to drink Scotch that sometimes I think my name is Igor Stra-whiskey.
I have never in my life seen a Kentuckian who didn’t have a gun, a pack of cards, and a jug of whiskey.
Always carry a flagon of whiskey in case of snakebite and furthermore always carry a small snake.
I wish to live to 150 years old, but the day I die, I wish it to be with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.
Whisky is liquid sunshine.
My own experience has been that the tools I need for my trade are paper, tobacco, food, and a little whisky.