Beer In My Hand Quotes & Sayings

I don't know, Benes. I'm not sure I've ever really understood women for that kind of commitment.' He flipped his beer mat up int the air with his index finger and caught it in his hand. — F.C. Malby

When I get a very generous introduction like that I explain that I'm emotionally moved, but on the other hand I'm Irish and the Irish are very emotionally moved. My mother is Irish and she cries during beer commercials. — Barry McCaffrey

Later, I was in a bathroom stall. Eric was on his knees. My dick was in his mouth, my head back against warm ceramic tile that shook with the beat of the music. My fingers were in his hair and everything was hot and wet. I grunted a warning and he backed away, jacking me until I came on the dirty floor. He stood up and kissed me while he jerked himself off. He sighed into my mouth. He tasted like stale beer and mint. He came on his hand. I felt raw. "Thanks," he said, zipping up his pants. "That was great." "Sure," I said, because I was unsure of what else to say. "You too." And then he left. I — T.J. Klune

He was disappointed in it all. He had developed into an alien. As the steam beer had tasted raw, so their companionship seemed raw to him. He was too far removed. Too many thousands of opened books yawned between them and him. He had exiled himself. He had travelled in the vast realm of intellect until he could no longer return home. On the other hand, he was human, and his gregarious need for companionship remained unsatisfied. He had found no new home. — Jack London

Two free days like an open mouth. They drank beer all day in the sun and passed out, and when she woke, she was burnt all over, and it was sunset, and Lotto had started building something enormous with sand, already four feet high and ten feet long and pointing toward the sea. Woozy, standing, she asked what it was.
He said, 'spiral jetty.'
She said, 'In sand?'
He smiled and said, 'That's its beauty.'
A moment in her bursting open, expanding. She looked at him. She hand't seen it before, but there was something special here. She wanted to tunnel inside him to understand what it was. There was a light under the shyness and youth, a sweetness, a sudden surge of the old hunger in her to take a part of him into her and make him briefly hers.
Instead, she bent and helped, they all did. And deep into the morning, when it was done, they sat in silence, huddled against the cold wind and watched the tide swallow it whole. Everything had changed somehow — Lauren Groff

He strolled over to the refrigerator, opened the door with one paw, and delicately picked up a beer between his teeth. He waited until clothes had stopped arcing through the air and hand it to Barbara. — Deborah Blake

Building software implies various stages of planning, preparation and execution that vary in kind and degree depending on what's being built. [ ... ]
Building a four-foot tower requires a steady hand, a level surface, and 10 undamaged beer cans. Building a tower 100 times that size doesn't merely require 100 times as many beer cans. — Steve McConnell

When my guy finished his beer, he crushed it in his hand and threw it on the floor. — Elsa Day

Smellin' the beefaloes and leanpigs turnin' on their spits, holding a cold cheer-beer in my hand, watchin' the stars poppin' out one by one like random pixels on God's antique
monochrome display, listenin' to the joyful chatter of my fellow gips, contemplatin' the easy job ahead of me, I was as near to heaven asI have ever been on this mostly sad ol' earth. — Paul Di Filippo

What are the funniest famous last words you've ever heard?" Lost, Ryan just stared at her. Why did her brain constantly spit out nonsensical questions? "Fine be boring." She turned to Jaime, who was sprawled on the neighboring blanked, and repeated the question.

"Lightning never hits the same spot twice," said Jaime. Everyone laughted. "You know any"" she asked her mate.

"Pull the pin out and count to what?" said Dante.

Dominic plopped himself on the ground next to Zac. "I got one: Hold my beer while I do this."

Taryn raised her hand. "Hey, what does this button do?"
"This doesn't taste right," said Marcus.
Bracken, a Mercury Pack enforcer spoke. "It's just a flesh wound."
Ally offered, "No dummy, that's a dolphin fin."
"What's that red dot on your forehead?" said McKenna.
Amused in spite of himself - it was after all, a completely pointless conversation - Ryan kissed her temple. — Suzanne Wright

His hand slid back up to my shoulder. He gave me a pat. "Threesome fearsome. No one stands a chance."
I grinned at him. "What about Nate?"
He tapped his beer with mine. "When he's around, it's the foursome fearsome. You can add any 'some to that name. Thank goodness, huh?" Then he groaned. "I really need to get laid tonight. — Tijan

Here is a principle to use in all aspects of economics and policy. When you find a good or service that is in huge demand but the supply is so limited to the point that the price goes up and up, look for the regulation that is causing it. This applies regardless of the sector, whether transportation, gas, education, food, beer, or daycare. There is something in the way that is preventing the market from working as it should. If you look carefully enough, you will find the hand of the state making the mess in question. — Jeffrey Tucker

His sophomore Creative Writing class was as silent as a room full of teenagers could be, only whispering and shuffling a little as they tried to complete their papers. This wasn't one of the "easy A" electives, and he usually got the kids who were serious about the idea of being better writers. Half of them just wanted to get better so they could improve their Pacific Rim hurt/comfort fanfic, but there was nothing wrong with that. Besides, one of them had let slip that a good portion of the class was posting on Archive of Our Own, and he'd spent a few nights with a beer in his hand, learning more about his students. He hadn't read the NC-17 pieces - there were professional limits - and yet he felt he respected them more as writers because he'd seen what they were capable of when they weren't being graded. — Seanan McGuire

She paused and saw him tense in expectation. He wouldn't like to hear this, but better from her than one of the others. "You aren't the only pilot I have in my service. And you aren't the only person with a dark past, though the illegal things that you did, you were forced to do by the Core. But I will tell you what I've told the others. This is your last chance. You screw up with me and you get shipped up river. I don't offer second chances - I offer last chances."
Nope, he didn't like it. She saw the hand not holding the bottle of beer curl into a fist.
Sin and Del, from Sunscapes Trilogy, Book 1: Last Chance — Michelle O'Leary

I wandered into the kitchen with my beer cup still in hand. There was nothing worse than being alone at a party. Well, not true. Being alone and sober.

"Hey."

I turned and was actually happy to see Noah. At least I wouldn't be the lonely loser. "Hi."

He glanced at my still mostly full beer.

"I really hardly ever drink. My friend assumes if he puts a beer in my hand I'll drink it; if I don't, he does. I'm more or less his cupholder. — Renita Pizzitola

Zachary looked down into the swirling morass that was his beer as the man walked onto the stage and started to play a solo piece, the band respectfully allowing him to start off his set by staking his claim. Zachary would give him staking his claim. He had his guitar nestling close by his side, as always, the leather of the case gently touching his calf, sending an almost erotic charge through his body every time he moved like the less than innocent brush of a future lover's hand on a bare arm. — Pete Langman

The whole idea of image is so confused. On the one hand, Madison Avenue is worried about the image of the players in a tennis tour. On the other hand, sports events are often sponsored by the makers of junk food, beer, and cigarettes. What's the message when an athlete who works at keeping her body fit is sponsored by a sugar-filled snack that does more harm than good? — Martina Navratilova

How many of you were born in Oklahoma? Yeah, never raise your hand to a question like that again. We're the mecca of beer-drinkin' rednecks. — Bryant A. Loney

I wasn't raised with the skills and emotional practice needed to "lean into discomfort," so over time I basically became a take-the-edge-off-aholic. But they don't have meetings for that. And after some brief experimenting, I learned that describing your addiction that way in a traditional twelve-step meeting doesn't always go over very well with the purists. For me, it wasn't just the dance halls, cold beer, and Marlboro Lights of my youth that got out of hand - it was banana bread, chips and queso, e-mail, work, staying busy, incessant worrying, planning, perfectionism, and anything else that could dull those agonizing and anxiety-fueled feelings of vulnerability. — Brene Brown

But before, not so long ago - my own rose from prom still OK on the mirror, dried but not a corpse - you were just Ed Slaterton, jocky hero, handsome in the student newspaper and star of a million strands of gossip. Now Annette was a person to me, standing right there, and not just an oh-my-God-have-you-heard, and I tried to put it together in my head, the print and the negative, the boyfriend and the celebrity shadow, like Theodora Sire sat next to me in history, borrowing pencils, but was still a movie star above my bed. Because as you came out of the dark to me, you were the boy I was kissing and wanted to kiss more, back to find me at a party like anybody might do, but you were Ed Slaterton too, and not the cad you are now, but just Ed Slaterton, co-captain, with a beer in your hand and Jillian Beach on your arm. — Daniel Handler

And then it hit me. One of those evil thoughts siblings get because, well, that's what we do. Looking over my shoulder I said, "You know, since you have some free time, maybe you could ... never mind."
"What?"
"Well it's just that, all those calories you've been drink - I mean - not burning off have kind of settled on your gut. I didn't want to mention anything," I said as Dave's hand stole to his midsection. "But the general pointed out that you'd lost a few steps training-wise." I laughed and waved my hand. "I'm sure it's nothing switching to a light beer won't cure. — Jennifer Rardin

They can have my beer when they pry it out of my cold, dead hand. — Ben Schwalb

Mr. Italia sat belching under a pair of oval-framed photographs of parents hairier, if possible, than himself. His wife was dead, but there was a picture of her, too, in her casket, gazing out at us with an eerie simulacrum of motherly love. Dark-complected Mr. Italia was indeed, with handle-bar mustaches of a size that might have made him topple forward out of his chair were it not for the posture seemingly aimed at correcting the leverage in his favor. He drank beer after thrusting into my hand a bottle of soda pop of marked but unidentifiable flavor, pale yellow in color, and lukewarm. — Peter De Vries

We'll take care of the cooking, Gram, so you can relax." When he and Cat both looked at her, Emma blushed. "Okay, fine. Sean will take care of the grilling so you can relax."
"I was counting on it. And, Sean, why don't you sit down and help us settle on a wedding date."
"I told Emma to tell me when to be there and I'd be there."
"Nonsense. Sit down."
He'd rather be dipped in barbecue sauce and dropped in the desert, but he sat. One more week and it would be over.
Then he wouldn't have to think about Emma anymore. Not think about marrying her or having babies with her or holding her in his arms at night. He'd be gone and she'd be some funny story his brothers brought up sitting around the fire knocking back beer.
"Really, Sean, are you okay?" Cat asked him, putting her hand on his arm.
He realized he'd been rubbing his chest, and he forced himself to lean forward and prop his arms on the table so he wouldn't do it again. "I'm fine. Let's pick a date. — Shannon Stacey

Brain: You don't want this.
Hormones: Dude, this is EXACTLY what I want.
B: No, not like this - she's wasted.
H: What's your point?
B: She won't remember this, and if she does, she'll be angry.
H: Do you see where her hand is? God, that feels good. Can't you feel that?
B: She's drunk. You can't do this. It's wrong
H: I want to do this.
B: Really? You want to go to school and say you scored with Bethany Milbury when she was so drunk she barely knew her name?
H:
H:
H: You're an asshole. I hate you.
B: She needs to eat something and drink some water. Don't let her drink anymore beer.
H:
H: Yeah, I know
B: She'll love you for taking care of her. She'll love that you respected her.
H: Five more minutes? Just five?
B: Now.
H: I can't believe you're making me do this. — Laurie Halse Anderson

Tyler took the beer out of my hand. "You were black-out drunk last night, and you're drinking again. I thought you were going to quit? Do I need to quit with you?"
"I've just lost my sister. Not the best time to stop drinking."
"There will never be a good time if you have to drink every time you're upset. Shit happens. You have to learn to deal with it without alcohol. I love you no matter what, but you need to wake up, Ellie. — Jamie McGuire

From Wishful Thinking...Sydney's first siting of her soon to be love interest, "as I gazed across the fire the hairs on the back of my neck began to tickle and stand on end. I watched as he gripped his beer bottle with a strong, sun tanned hand. My eyes followed up his arm and even through the flames I could see strong muscles rippling beneath the thin t-shirt he was wearing. As my eyes continued up, I saw a strong jaw, big smile, deep brown eyes, and short dark brown hair, which looked freshly cut. Not too short though, just enough to put your hands through and tug a little. — S.P. Wilcox

...but for the Girl Writing A Letter these things don't matter, she's got a beer in her free hand, she's on the road, she's real and she's in love. — William Carpenter

Out of the apartment houses come women who should be young but have faces like stale beer; men with pulled down hats and quick eyes that look the street over behind the cupped hand that shields the match flame; worn intellectuals with cigarette coughs and no money in the bank; fly cops with granite faces and unwavering eyes; cookies and coke peddlers; people who look like nothing in particular and know it, and once in a while even men that actually go to work. But they come out early, when the wide cracked sidewalks are empty and still have dew on them. (from) The High Window — Raymond Chandler

heatwave. Dad was wearing a T-shirt and baggy shorts, flip-flops on his feet, a bottle of beer in his hand. — Jess Ryder

What do you think?" I asked.
"You called me."
"Yeah."
"You told me this stuff."
I wasn't sure if these were questions, but I nodded again, just going with it. "I sure did."
"And you know I'm not a bullshitter."
"It's part of your intrigue." I waved a hand at him. "It completes the whole intimidation factor. Also makes girls wet their pants for you."
That didn't even faze him. He didn't blink. "So I'm going to give you my honest opinion."
"Oh." Now I could see where this was leading. "Okay. Yeah. Give it to me straight."
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"What?"
He got up for a beer, placing one in front of me as well when he returned. "That's why you came to me. You know you're being an idiot, so stop being an idiot. — Tijan

WARNING: UNHAPPY ENDING! she wrote. If more bookshop owners had taken the responsibility to hang warning signs, her life would have been much easier. Cigarette packets came with warnings, so why not tragic books? There was wording on bottles of beer warning against drinking and driving, but not a single word about the consequences of reading books without tissues to hand. — Katarina Bivald

A guy approached her, beer bottle in one hand, smiling at her in that way guys do when they think they're good- looking enough to smile and get anything they want. "My friend and I were just talking about what a sausage fest this was, and then you came in." He ran his appraising gaze down her body, lingering on the V of her neckline.
Faith crossed her arms. "That works out, because I'm here for a weenie roast.
He put a protective hand over his package - probably without realizing he was doing it - but his smile widened. — Cindi Madsen

Speaking of wine, beer never caught on with the ancient Greeks and Romans the way it did in Mesopotamia and Western Europe - at least among the privileged classes, who showed a strong preference for fermented grape juice.[11] Beer was seen as a drink of peasants and savages, earning the contempt of public intellectuals like Pliny the Elder, who, in reference to the people of Spain and Gaul (now France) fumed that, "The perverted ingenuity of man has given even to water the power of intoxicating where wine is not procurable. Western nations intoxicate themselves by means of moistened grain."[12] One wonders what Pliny would say today if you were to hand him a glass of the famous beer that now bears his name - Pliny the Elder IPA, brewed by California's Russian River Brewing Co. and renowned as one of the world's finest beers. — James Houston

At the same moment when massive global institutions seem to rule the world, there is an equally strong countermovement among regular people to claim personal agency in our own lives. We grow food in backyards. We brew beer. We weave cloth and knit blankets. We shop local. We create our own playlists. We tailor delivery of news and entertainment. In every arena, we customize and personalize our lives, creating material environments to make meaning, express a sense of uniqueness, and engage causes that matter to us and the world. It makes perfect sense that we are making our spiritual lives as well, crafting a new theology. And that God is far more personal and close at hand than once imagined. — Diana Butler Bass

The Housefly
I'm just a little pesky thing,
Flying to eke out a living.
So round and round and round I hiss,
And fill the air with busy bliss.
Of hand and swatter steering clear,
I venture to light on crumbs and beer.
In salad days I was a Grecian king.
War and famine make me sing.
How much they'd like to whack me flat,
With a newspaper or even a baseball bat.
Splat! — David B. Lentz

It would be nice, after this was over, to take a long raft trip. Maybe Jen and I could paddle through Westwater and its ass-clenching rapids, then lounge on the banks in Moab for a week or two. That would be heaven: a raft trip with a beer in my hand instead of a rifle. I — Erik Storey

A bead of liquid appears at her hairline and slides down her face. When it hits her cheek, I can't tell if the drop is from the beer or from her eyes. My hand moves, the need to touch her more powerful than thought. Before I know what I'm doing, I wipe away the wetness. — Katie McGarry

I've seen only painters and fishermen and I think they're both the same kind of men who made a different choice one time in their lives. The fisherman held a rod in his hand and said yes and the painter held a brush in his hand and said yes and sometimes I hold a beer in my hand and say yes. — Sherman Alexie

I travel up and down the country and I've been all around the middle of America for many years. Middle America is not one big mass of people with a proverbial beer in its hand, keeping the country down. That is not my experience of it and I don't labor under that misconception. And we have a long tradition of coming together through music in our country. — Wynton Marsalis

So the absurdity of happiness is that it is embarrassing to discuss or even mention, impossible to define or measure, may not be achievable at all - or, at best, only intermittently and unconsciously - and may even turn into its opposite if directly pursued, but that it frequently turns up unexpectedly in the course of pursuing something else. There is no tease more infuriating ... It is tempting to forget the whole thing and simply fall back on the couch with a remote control in one hand and a beer in the other. — Michael Foley

If God had wanted us to spend all our time fretting about the problems of home ownership, He would never have created beer. This is not to say that I am recommending that you totally ignore your responsibilities as a homeowner and just sit around all day with a can of beer in your hand. No indeed, I have long been a believer in purchasing bottled beer, and pouring it into a chilled glass. — Dave Barry

The cult of friendship disturbs me. It's like our quality is supposed to be measured by the number of friends we have. For me, it's quite the inverse. When somebody says "I'm friends with everyone" I just assume they have the spine of your average jellyfish and the integrity of your average soap dish.
"I have tons of close friends!" Ok, then you obviously have no standards. "I've slept with lots of people!" Good, I will shake your hand from inside this Hazmat suit. It's like you have to have friends or you're nothing, and you gotta have lots of friends, and the more friends you have the more value you have. This Is a way of lowering our standards to fit in.
I'm a big fan of quality over quantity. Everyone wants to look at their life like it's a beer commercial they can just climb into. The larger the circle of friends the more alcohol is involved to blind yourself to the fact that you cant stand most of these assholes. — Stefan Molyneux

Tahitians don't chase happiness. Happiness comes naturally to them. You only need to see them in the water, with a beer in their hand, splashing each other or waving to every stranger they see on the road, to know this. Happiness is in the air: in every hibiscus flower that opens early in the morning, in the sweet aroma of the pineapple plantations, in the smile of the people lolling around idly, resting slothfully in the warm breeze that ruffles the surface of the lagoon. — Carol Vorvain

I would think beer and football go hand in hand. — Will Ferrell

Skye snorted. "Parents are so lame sometimes. Mine think I'm a virgin. They also think I'd never drink beer because I'm a calorie freak. No one is that much of a calorie freak."
Frowning as she yanked me along, I wondered about the calories in those tacos. Skye must have sensed my concerns because she snorted again.
"The freshman fifteen is expected. If we don't pack on a little weight, people will think we're full of ourselves. Those girls over there," she said, waving her hand in the direction of a bevy of pretty sorority girls. "They're obsessed with being hot. Unfortunately, while you can snag a man by being hot, you can't keep him. To keep them, you have to be confident and I am. I'm just confident enough to pack on a few pounds from eating tacos. I'm a keeper — Bijou Hunter

I became part of his ocean, an ocean of poetry that swayed and moved anybody near, that plunged up against every chair and table and tugged and tried our souls. His poem left me dry-mouthed and hungry, diminished only slightly from the bitterness of the beer I continually forgot was in my hand. — Annie Fisher

Downhill's the future of the sport. Cross-country's not geared for TV. Some fat guy watching it with a beer in one hand and potato chips in the other is going to say, I can do that. America likes to see people crash. — Missy Giove

This kind of heat sucks when you're not at the beach with a cold beer in your hand. I need a vacation from my vacation. — April Mae Monterrosa

Abbey, with a cheap beer nestled in his hand, says simply, "Desolation in my heart. — Sean Prentiss

Just being near the water makes me ache for it, makes my skin tingle with the desire to run until I am chest-deep and the water wraps around my skin like a satin ribbon, making the worries, the aches, the stress unwind. Sometimes, I wonder if this is how a recovering alcoholic would feel if someone put a beer in her hand. If her body would wage war against her mind as mine does. — Mandy Hubbard

I don't fool you, do I? Those others" - he waved a vague hand to indicate their
missing comrades - "they think I'm all that - but you know better, don't you."
"Know what?" she'd asked.
He leaned forward, smelling of beer and cigarettes. "You know I'm a fraud. I can
feel the beast inside me, screaming to get out. And if I loose it, it will pull me up to greatness despite myself."
"So why not let it free?" She hadn't been a werewolf then. The world had been a gentler place, the monsters safely in their closets, and she had been brave in her ignorance.
His eyes were old and weary, his voice slurring a bit. "Because then everyone would
see," he told her.
"See what?"
"Me. — Patricia Briggs

DEE DEE RAMONE: Sid Vicious followed me all over the place ... the worst time was one night when we had a big party ... They were serving beer and wine, and everybody was bombed. The whole bathroom was filled with puke
in the sink, in the toilets, on the floor. It was really disgusting ... All of a sudden I had a huge amount of speed in my hand. I started sniffing it like crazy. I was so high. And then I saw Sid and he said, 'Do you have anything to get high?' I said, 'Yeah, I got some speed'. So Sid pulled out a set of works and put a whole bunch of speed in the syringe and then stuck the needle in the toilet with all the puke and piss in there and loaded it. He didn't cook it up. He just shook it, stuck it in his arm, and got off. I just looked at him. I'd seen it all by then. He just looked at me kind of dazed and said, 'Man, where did you get this stuff?'. — Legs McNeil

This is another thing I think of, turning it over, try to put together two pictures of it, but this time it's about me, it's myself I'm trying to figure. Because one sounds so disgusting, not even able to tell Al about it, win the big game, take the virgin to her first bonfire, feed her a beer or two, and then the two of us in someone's car with your hand between my legs, unbuttoned and hiked down and the noises I made, before I finally, gasping, stopped you. It sounds terrible and it's probably the truth, the real picture, gross when I write it down and shamed about it. But it's the real, whole truth I'm trying to get down, how it happened, and honestly it felt different then, different from that bad picture. I can see it, so gentle the way you moved, the thrill that was there with us as no one knew where we were or what we were doing. — Daniel Handler

Mia wants no trouble, so she stands up from off the stool. One of the guys hit her on her booty. The beer bottle still in hand, she drags it across the bar top towards her; when it reaches the edge it drops, sliding down. Mia grips a hold of the neck of the bottle and her arm swings backwards, busting it over the freckled face boy head. Taking the bar stool and smashing it over the other guy's head. She leaves out leaving those guys passed out on the floor. — Kerra Pridgen

Like any time I can get my beer without payin' for it." "Right, like you pay your tab," Krystal muttered loudly, crossing her arms on her ample bosom and rolling her eyes to the ceiling. Jim-Billy closed the door on the fridge (with a beer in his hand, incidentally), and turned to Krystal. "I do," he said. "Yeah, once a year," she shot back. "Well, I still do," Jim-Billy returned. "And you expect a discount," she retorted. "Anyone would, seein' as I order in bulk. — Kristen Ashley

If you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of your arm. Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants to see us happy. — Benjamin Franklin

Of course", I said. I was sure he'd even gone to Olshanka for the tribute first, just so he could pretend that was the truth for a little bit longer. But I couldn't really bring myself to pretend with him, not even long enough for him to get used to the idea; my mouth was already turning up at the corners without my willing it to. He flushed and looked away; but that wasn't any better for him, since everyone else was watching us with enormous interest, too drank on beer and dancing to be polite. He looked back at me instead, and scowled at my smile.
"Come and meet my mother," I said. I reached out and took his hand. — Naomi Novik

she walked into her bathroom, stripped, and entered the shower.
The door opened a minute later to expose Riley standing there, beer in hand.
Scraping damp strands of red off her face, she glared at him. "I don't remember giving you an invitation."
"You said to amuse myself while you shower." A slow, slow, deliciously slow smile.
It said gotcha — Nalini Singh

Are you all right, Macy? You looked a little flushed"
Just as Macy began to nod quickly, Ghost swigged his beer and jerked his head in her direction. "She looks that way because I have my hand up her skirt. — Cherrie Lynn

Cooper gave me a very serious expression. "I'm going to do something. Do not freak out. Be casual. Can you do that?"
"No," I said in a panic.
Cooper reached behind me and I felt his fingers on my ass. Forcing myself to stay very still, I felt him fiddling around then he pulled his hand away.
"That suit is old and it's riding up," he explained, taking a beer from his brother who walked by. "I didn't want anyone seeing my girl's ass cheeks."
"I didn't notice," I said, reaching behind me awkwardly.
"It's too hot out to notice. You're fine now."
"You could have just told me," I said then rolled my eyes. "But why would you when you could touch my ass instead?"
"My girl is pretty fucking smart," he said, giving me a big bright smile. — Bijou Hunter

I went up above the quay past the steps to the hotel. I saw a man through the window with a beer in his hand, and another man with a basket full of eggs. I was feeling heavy now, and tired, and I stood there leaning backwards with my hands crossed behind my back at the end of the breakwater before I walked on to the beach on the other side and some way along on the hard-frozen white sand. It had started to blow a bit, and it was still cold with no snow, so I took off my scarf and tied it round my head and ears and sat down in the shelter of a dune and blew into my hands to warm them before I lit a cigarette. Poker ran along the edge of the water with a seagull's wing in his mouth, and I was so young then, and I remember thinking: I'm twenty-three years old, there is nothing left in life. Only the rest. — Per Petterson

I look like the kind of guy who has a bottle of beer in my hand. — Charles Bronson

The best beer in the world is the one in my hand. — Charles Papazian

Ever had a beer before?" Gabriel grinned.
She shook her head.
"Then I'm glad I'm your first."
"Have you ever held a boy's hand before?" She shook her head, and he laughed softly. "Then I'm glad I'm your first."
"Have you ever been kissed by a boy?"
She blushed deeply and shook her head.
"Then I'm glad I'm your first."
"Have you ever fallen asleep in the arms of a boy before, Beatrice?"
She shook her head.
"Then I'm glad I'm your first."
"I haven't really danced like this before," she said wistfully.
"Then I'm glad I'm your first."
"Has a man ever asked you to marry him before?"
She shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Then I'm glad I'm your first. — Sylvain Reynard