Leaving Las Vegas Quotes

“That which begins will also end.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“There will always be dark characters, but her life is good; it is as she wishes it to be.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“Let go and fuck God.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“Together they stroke the silence.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“He sits at the filthy bar and silently witnesses the change of watch from his will to his independently operating motor skills.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“If he drinks one hundred dollars a day--and he can--he's got one hundred days to drink. It's just an arithmetic operation, simple logic.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“Purity of execution will only add to the artistic aspects of the whole wretched mess.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“He knew that being handy is the kind of conspicuous skill that makes it easier for others to tolerate you. They tolerated, and even liked him, for as long as they could.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“His point was made, and he moved along, in keeping with the tangential nature that must consume at least one of them. There is a bottle in his future--perhaps sooner a glass--elsewhere on the line.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“The perpetual cloud of alcohol wears momentarily thin, or perhaps it is just his survival instinct beating through. Either way, before leaving for the nearby bar he is struck with the realization that he hasn’t eaten for quite some time—hasn’t eaten substantially for even longer. Though he is not hungry, and though the very thought of solid food brings a clear and present rush of nausea to his gut, he knows that he must make a go of it, must try to eat something. If for no better reason than to extend his drinking base, to sustain the heart that pumps the blood that carries the alcohol to his brain, he seeks out nutrition.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“I’m rambling. I really like you. You make me want to talk. I don’t know what time it is.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“At times like this he likes to think of his life as one big piece of performance art. Not structured enough to be an actual play, it is full of irrationality and minuscule details and can only be viewed from the inside out. Once. By him. If he doesn’t black out. He titles this episode: Pinching pennies and prostitutes—frugal fucking in LA.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“It dawns on him that he has crossed over the line that runs between maintaining alcoholic and sloppy, stupid, obnoxious drunk. But at least he is cognizant of it this time; he’ll try to ease off. “Oh, thank you, but I don’t think so. I’ll just finish my drink and go. I have to get up pretty early tomorrow,” she says. They get their drinks and both take long swallows. By now Ben is obscured from himself. He can no longer monitor his actions. He can’t edit himself. Later he will know, but right now he doesn’t, that this is not him. “I really wish that you’d come home with me,” he says, slurring and breaking his words. “Yourso cute, and I’m really good in bed… believe me… yousmell good too.” He stops and frowns. “No, okay,” he mutters into his glass. He swivels on his stool and his arms find the bar for support. She starts to speak and then doesn’t. Looking at him, she gets a look of great sadness in her eyes, sadness so intense that it goes beyond what her face has made you believe she could feel. Ben does not see it, but it is not wasted. It serves more purpose to her than it possibly could to him right now; she did not consciously author it, and she is surprised. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much,” she says. “I have to go. Thanks for the drink.” She gets up and walks quickly to the door. Her understatement seems to give him a spark. “Maybe I shouldn’t breathe so much, Teri!” he calls after her. “Ha! ha!” But she is gone. The bartender shakes his head and puts down the glass that he is washing. “Time to go, bud,” he says. “We’re closing up.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas

“Sera downs all the liquor and half the beer almost immediately. She pushes her glass forward to indicate that she’s ready for another. In lieu of working she has decided to drink a lot tonight. This is one of those rare times when everything seems to be getting to her. The normally undefined craving for companionship is making itself known to her and she doesn’t like it. She feels strange, older. The incident with the security guard has disturbed her more than she can admit to herself. She cannot accept that she needs to be, at least at some deeply hidden level, or even in some insignificant way, accepted, validated like a parking ticket, punched.”
― John O'Brien, Leaving Las Vegas