Quotessence
Home / Topics / Bar Quotes

Bar Quotes

Browse 75 quotes about Bar.

Bar Quotes

“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.”

PartyScentsFood And WineBarPerfumesGrace LyndonColognes
Book:The Orchard
Create image

“A dingy emblem on the door depicted a little boy peeing into a pot. The rest of the bar was equally drab and tasteless. Dim bulbs behind red-tasseled lamp shades barely illuminated each of a dozen maroon vinyl booths, which marched along one wall toward the murky front windows. Chipped Formica tables anchored the booths in place. Opposite the row of booths was a long, scarred wooden bar with uncomfortable-looking stools. Behind the bar, sitting on glass shelves in front of a cloudy mirror, were endless rows of bottles, each looking as forlorn as the folks for whom they waited. He caught the strong odors of liquor and tobacco smoke, and the weaker scents of cleaning chemicals and vomit. In one of the booths , two heads bobbed with the movement of mug-clenching fists. A scrawny bartender with droopy eyelids picked his teeth with a swizzle stick and chatted quietly with a woman seated at the bar. Otherwise the bar was empty.”

Bar
Book:Germ: If You Breathe, It Will Find You
Create image

“Allir í hringnum höfðu hátt um sig og gripu hver fram í fyrir öðrum. Hitalampi brann í loftinu fyrir ofan þau. Lilja fékk sér sopa af bjórnum og þegar hún setti hann aftur á borðið, fann hún að hávaðinn og skarkalinn á reykingasvæðinu fjaraði smátt og smátt út þar til herbergið varð fullkomlega hljóðlaust. Allt stöðvaðist. Fólk hætti að hreyfast; varð líkara útklipptum pappamyndum af sjálfu sér. Hún fann hitalampann brenna á hnakkanum og leit á strákinn sem sat við hliðina á henni og sá birtuna streyma á andlitið á honum. Haka hans lyftist upp í sömu andrá og hljóðið skall aftur á. Einhver kveikti sér í sígarettu. Kolla lyfti bjór að vörum sér og saup. Mannfólkið varð aftur raunverulegt. „Ég ætla á klósstið,“ kallaði Kolla í eyrað á Lilju og stuggaði við henni. Rödd hennar skar rönd í hávaðann. Þær stóðu upp í sömu andrá og glas skall í gólfið og molnaði. Hlátrasköll brutust út á borðinu á móti þeim. Kolla ýtti við öxlinni á Lilju og þær stauluðust út um dyrnar á reykingasvæðinu og aftur inn á barinn.”

LiteratureAlcoholismLiterary FictionBarNightlifeIcelandicBókmenntir
Book:Sara og Dagný og ég
Create image

“Ást mín á Arnóri hefur engan stað til að fara á núna. Stundum vildi ég að ég gæti fangað hana, lokað hana inni, en þá veit ég að ég myndi ég sakna hennar. Núna streymir hún bara frá mér í allar áttir hvenær sem er – kemur stundum út í tárum, stundum í brosi. Ég vildi að Arnór gæti séð mig núna. Ég held hann yrði stoltur. Hann sá eitthvað í mér sem enginn annar sá. Eitthvað sem fékk hann til að brosa í hvert skipti sem hann sá mig. Og ég bíð stundum eftir því að sjá hann birtast í dyragættinni heima hjá mér, eða úti einhvers staðar, á bar eða eitthvað, og brosa þessu breiða brosi sínu. Ég sver það er það fallegasta sem ég hef séð.”

Short StoryLiterary FictionIcelandBarShort Story CollectionIcelandicBókmenntir
Book:Sara og Dagný og ég
Create image

“With such luck as this, he rode the beast in the jaunty way that she deserved, back north, seemingly back from Mexico, pulling up finally at an outlying bar-ex-saloon (they had covered the old adobe face with knotty pine, substituted big stone matades for the cuspidors) and having brought her wrecklessly this far did not park her in the little parking lot but in front of the church next door. They had lifted that face too and neonized, but it did no good, they seemed to know they had no chance against an older god, their doors were closed. Thus one could join the pagan worshipers with a self-righteous shrug, through latticed doors.”

ReligionChurchBarSaloon
Book:Wall to Wall
Create image

“Every day the words that Keep-on-Dancin’ and the Gypsy imparted to me - theories, observations, advice and warnings - are substantiated and acquire deeper meaning. ‘It’s not for nothing there are so many bistrots in Paris,’ Keep-on-Dancin’ asserted. ‘The reason so many people are always crowded into them isn’t so much they go there to drink but to meet up, congregate, come together, comfort each other. Yes, comfort each other: people are bored the whole time, and they’re scared, scared of loneliness and boredom. And they all carry around in their heart of hearts their own pet little arch-fear: fear of death, no matter how devil-may-care they might appear to be. They’d do anything to avoid thinking about it. Don’t forget, it’s with that fear all temples and churches were built. So in cities like this, where forty different races mingle together, everyone can always find something to say to each other.”

DeathReligionFearBoredomSocializingBarCafeBistro
Book:Paris Noir: The Secret History of a City
Create image

“A kind of joyous hysteria moved into the room, everything flying before the wind, vehicles outside getting dented to hell, the crowd sweaty and the smells of aftershave, manure, clothes dried on the line, your money’s worth of perfume, smoke, booze; the music subdued by the shout and babble through the bass hammer could be felt through the soles of the feet, shooting up the channels of legs to the body fork, center of everything. It is the kind of Saturday night that torches your life for a few hours, makes it seem like something is happening.”

DanceSaturdayBar
Book:Close Range: Wyoming Stories
Create image

“Am I making something worth while? I’m not sure. I write and I sing and I hear words from time to time about my life and choices making ways, into other lives, other hearts, but am I making something worth while? I’m not sure. There was a boy last night who I never spoke to because I was too drunk and still shy, but mostly lonely, and I couldn’t find anything lightly to say, so I simply walked away but still wondered what he did with his life because he didn’t even speak to me or look at me but still made me wonder who he was and I walked away asking Am I making something worth while? I am not sure. I am a complicated person with a simple life and I am the reason for everything that ever happened to me.”

LifeHeartPoetrySimpleSilenceLivingCreatingSingingLonelyWordsComplicatedDrunkMeaningProseWriterJournalCreateLivesSingWanderlustTravellingNomadBoyReasonsOn WritingDiaryNomadicBarSingerWalk AwayVagabondOn The RoadExpatSpoke To
Book:Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving
Create image