“Still,' whispered Jack, 'you have to keep at it. Overcome the miseries of vomiting and the whirling pit. Pay your dues and work towards the real rewards of big-time adult drinking. Something to look forward to.”

“As real as,' said Eddie.'As real as what?' said Jack.'Wish I knew,' said Eddie. 'But I can't do corroborative nouns. None of us are perfect, are we? I can get started. As big as, as obscene as, as foul as. But I can't get any further. But that's life for you again. As unfair as...”

“Jack, get a grip of yourself.'I have a grip of myself.' Jack took a grip of himself. It was a most intimate grip; not the kind of grip that you usually take of yourself in public.”

“Have you ever head this theory about drinking yourself sober?' Eddie asked. 'It's a very popular theory. Amongst drunks, anyway.”

“Jack nodded. 'No,' he said.Was that a trick answer?”

“And yes. They did become very drunk, the three of them.And you're not supposed to be drunk when you get involved in matters such as this: Big Matters, Matters of an Apocalyptic Nature. You're supposed to be coldly sober. And you just can't be coldly sober when you're drunk.”

“Now, it's a fact well known to those who know it well that prophets of doom only attain popularity when they get the drinks in all around.”