In its inception, now that I look back upon it, this need for alcohol was a mental need, a nerve need, a good-spirits need.

How can I explain?
It was something like this.

Physiologically, from the standpoint of palate and stomach, alcohol was, as it had always been, repulsive.

It tasted no better than beer did when I was five, than bitter claret did when I was seven.

When I was alone, writing or studying, I had no need for it.