He drank his way across the narrow sea.

it seemed as if hell were put into His cup; He seized it, and at one tremendous draught of love, He drank damnation dry.

"I taste a liquor never brewed"

I taste a liquor never brewed — From Tankards scooped in Pearl — Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an Alcohol!

Inebriate of Air — am I — And Debauchee of Dew — Reeling — thro endless summer days — From inns of Molten Blue — When "Landlords" turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove's door — When Butterflies — renounce their "drams" — I shall but drink the more!

Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats — And Saints — to windows run — To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the — Sun —

"Once said that his political adversary “dived down deeper into the sea of knowledge and came up drier than any other man he knew".

And once he had got really drunk on wine,
Then he would speak no language but Latin.

No other such judge has dishonoured the English ermine, since Jeffreys drank himself to death in the Tower.

If libations were proper to pour above the slain, this man deserved, more than deserved, such sacrament. He filled our cup with evil things unspeakable and now himself come home has drunk it to the dregs.

Each of his phrases was rather like a little ancient island, inundated by a miniature sea of whiskey.

He hastened down, in no kindly humour, and seated himself upon the stone bench without the door of his inn; not observing that, first out of mirth, then out of spleen, he had drunk more wine than usual.

Unhappy man! Do you share my maddness? Have you drunk also of the intoxicating draught? Hear me; let me reveal my tale, and you will dash the cup from your lips!

The sea had jeeringly kept his finite body up, but drowned the infinite of his soul. Not drowned entirely, though. Rather carried down alive to wondrous depths, where strange shapes of the unwarped primal world glided to and fro before his passive eyes; and the miser-merman, Wisdom, revealed his hoarded heaps; and among the joyous, heartless, ever-juvenile eternities, Pip saw the multitudinous, God-omnipresent, coral insects, that out of the firmament of waters heaved the colossal orbs. He saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God.

...and the vessel was not full, his intellect was not satisfied, his soul was not at peace, his heart was not still.

The tyrant is a child of Pride
Who drinks from his sickening cup
Recklessness and vanity,
Until from his high crest headlong
He plummets to the dust of hope.

Yet can he neuer dye, but dying liues,
And doth himselfe with sorrow new sustaine,
That death and life attonce vnto him giues.
And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.
There dwels he euer, miserable swaine,
Hatefull both to him selfe, and euery wight;
Where he through priuy griefe, and horrour vaine,
Is woxen so deform'd, that he has quight
Forgot he was a man, and Gealosie is hight.