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Drugs Quotes

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Drugs Quotes

“I think he just loved being with the bears because they didn't make him feel bad. I get it too. When he was with the bears, they didn't care that he was kind of weird, or that he'd gotten into trouble for drinking too much and using drugs(which apparently he did a lot of). They didn't ask him a bunch of stupid questions about how he felt, or why he did what he did. They just let him be who he was.”

“In the same way that my truck had been impounded by the police, my life had been impounded by drugs. Something else had seized control of what should’ve belonged to me. The worst part was that I’d bought into the lies by believing that drugs were ultimate. My deluded beliefs not only convinced me to accept the fact that drugs were robbing me of my life, but also to believe that was a good thing. So, I stood there with a smile on my stoned face, defending them vigorously as they pillaged me.”

“I don't think the drug dealer in ghetto culture is really admired just because of the shit he owns. He isn't respected for his money, either. Think about it—there are plenty of people with money who aren't respected in ghettos all over the world. No, he's respected because he's capable. For those who feel broken and helpless, there does not exist a more inspiring thing.”

“Every unpleasant worldly experience in life exposes our sensitive nervous systems to painful phenomena. Despite all the beer commercial advertisement slogans urging us to live with gusto, life is unavoidably painful. Life is a battering ram that inflicts trauma upon human beings. People blunt the traumatic force of enduring a lifetime of pain, fearfulness, and unremitted anguish and boredom with religion, sex, booze, drugs, fantasy, and other indulgent acts and forms acts of escapism.”

“...The efficacy of psychedelics with regard to art has to do with their ability to render language weightless, as fluid and ephemeral as those famous "bubble letters" of the sixties. Psychedelics, I think, disconnect both the signifier and the signified from their purported referents in the phenomenal world - simultaneously bestowing upon us a visceral insight into the cultural mechanics of language, and a terrifying inference of the tumultuous nature that swirls beyond it. In my own experience, it always seemed as if language were a tablecloth positioned neatly upon the table until some celestial busboy suddenly shook it out, fluttering and floating it, and letting it fall back upon the world in not quite the same position as before - thereby giving me a vertiginous glimpse into the abyss that divides the world from our knowing of it. And it is into this abyss that the horror vacui of psychedelic art deploys itself like an incandescent bridge. Because it is one thing to believe, on theoretical evidence, that we live in a prison-house of language. It is quite another to know it, to actually peek into the slippery emptiness as the Bastille explodes around you. Yet psychedelic art takes this apparent occasion for despair and celebrates our escape from linguistic control by flowing out, filling that rippling void with meaningful light, laughter, and a gorgeous profusion.”

“As I lay in bed trying to figure out the tangle I had gotten myself into, I realised temptation struck human beings in different forms. In the form of chocolates for children, drugs for young adults, bribe money for people in influential positions, and sometimes in the form of lust –like the kind I had been struck with. Human beings succumbed to this temptation despite knowing too well that they would suffer the consequences days, weeks, months or even years later.”

“31. The human body seems indestructible when we are young. However, it is incredibly fragile and must be care for if it is to serve us for a lifetime. Too often, the abuse it takes during early years (from drugs, improper nutrition, sporting injuries, etc.) becomes painful handicaps during later years.”

“I finally gave in today. Admitting that I haven't been able to do it alone, that's defeat right? But do a couple pills change why I'm here? Will my spirit be altered? Do my passions change? Will I lose hope either way? My madness is what makes me. It’s my most unique beauty.”

“I would rather go mad, gone down the dark road to Mexico, heroin dripping in my veins, eyes and ears full of marijuana, eating the god Peyote on the floor of a mudhut on the border or laying in a hotel room over the body of some suffering man or woman; rather jar my body down the road, crying by a diner in the Western sun; rather crawl on my naked belly over the tincans of Cincinnati; rather drag a rotten railroad tie to a Golgotha in the Rockies; rather, crowned with thorns in Galveston, nailed hand and foot in Los Angeles, raised up to die in Denver, pierced in the side in Chicago, perished and tombed in New Orleans and resurrected in 1958 somewhere on Garret Mountain, come down roaring in a blaze of hot cars and garbage, streetcorner Evangel in front of City I-Tall, surrounded by statues of agonized lions, with a mouthful of shit, and the hair rising on my scalp, screaming and dancing in praise of Eternity annihilating the sidewalk, annihilating reality, screaming and dancing against the orchestra in the destructible ballroom of the world, blood streaming from my belly and shoulders flooding the city with its hideous ecstasy, rolling over the pavements and highways by the bayoux and forests and derricks leaving my flesh and my bones hanging on the trees.”

“Many years later after the sell-outs, betrayals, and hatred which would tear us apart, when our brotherhood had been destroyed, I’d always look back and remember that night. That fucking wild night at the KeyClub, when the smoke stung my eyes but my world was full of nothing but blind hope. When life was not a mockery, but a very real fire which flamed through my veins like the most incredible drug... the night when Kelly-Lee Obann, drunk, high and barely 20 the time, looked out through his hair with a terrible nakedness and said to me; “We’re not gonna make it out of this alive. You know that, right?”

“I needed to stop blaming others for my emptiness and shortcomings; I needed to stop hoping the emptiness would change without me changing. If drugs, partying, and relationships kept me continually feeling insecure while at the center of my being, then they needed to be surmounted and something else positioned in their place. I could not expect change to occur without changing what was at the center of my life or the purpose for which I was living.”

“The majority of the common people do not realize that calling 911 may result in a stressed out armed police officer that has a range of medical issues and is taking potent prescription drugs being sent to out to them.”

“I was not enjoying this any longer but I kept turning towards it, and I could not explain why. Was it just because my friends did drugs? Was it because of social pressure or loneliness? Was it because of dependency and habit? For some reason, any alternative seemed better than sobriety. I kept telling myself that I chose this path because it was more fun, more interesting, and more eventful. I told myself that the people who failed to choose it were just afraid to let go and live. Then I would go and have the craziest adventures, and each one would propel me deeper into this lifestyle. Somewhere deep down, I knew that I was lying to myself, and yet each escapade pulled me deeper into my own little biosphere of lies and delusions.”

“Drug knowledge originated mostly with males because they tend to be more venturesome-an outgrowth of male aggression. You've read your Orange Catholic Bible, thus you know the story of Eve and the apple. Here's an interesting fact about that story: Eve was not the first to pluck and sample the apple. Adam was first and he learned by this to put the blame on Eve.”

“Satan," he said, "couldn't undo anything God had done. She could at least try to make existence for His little toys less painful. She could see what He couldn't: To be alive was to be either bored or scared stiff. So she filled an apple with all sorts of ideas that might at least relieve the boredom, such as rules for games with cards and dice, and how to fuck, and recipes for beer and wine and whiskey, and pictures of different plants that were smokeable, and so on. And instructions on how to make music and sing and dance real crazy, real sexy. And how to spout blasphemy when they stubbed their toes. "Satan had a serpent give Eve the apple. Eve took a bite and handed it to Adam. Hee took a bite, and then they fucked.”