Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crush’d the sweet poison of misused wine.

John Milton 1608 – 1674
Comus [1634], l. 46

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As we became subjects of King Alcohol, shivering denizens of his mad realm, the chilling vapor that is loneliness settled down. It thickened, ever becoming blacker. Some of us sought out sordid places, hoping to find understanding companionship and approval. Momentarily we did — then would come oblivion and the awful awakening to face the hideous Four Horsemen — Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration, Despair.

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS, The Big Book

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