I did not like the taste, so I drank for the sole purpose of getting drunk, of getting hopelessly, helplessly drunk.

And I, who had saved and scraped, traded like a Shylock and made junkmen weep; I, who had stood aghast when French Frank, at a single stroke, spent eighty cents for whisky for eight men, I turned myself loose with a more lavish disregard for money than any of them.
I remember going ashore one night with Nelson.

In my pocket were one hundred and eighty dollars.

It was my intention, first, to buy me some clothes, after that, some drinks.

I needed the clothes.