“Sir, pay no attention to the people who say the glass is half empty, because 32% means it's 2/3 empty. There's still some liquid in that glass, is my point. But I wouldn't drink it. The last third is usually backwash.”

“Is the glass half full, or half empty? It depends on whether you're pouring, or drinking.”

“Half full, half empty, what the hell difference does it make? If there's something in the damn glass, drink it.”

“Some people see the glass as half-empty, while others see it as half-full. But Jones stares at it and tries to figure out who drank the damn water.”

“I’m supposed to figure out if the glass is half full or half empty,” I told her.

Without a moment’s hesitation, in a split second, my grandmother shrugged and said: “It depends on if you’re drinking or pouring.”

“I don't care whether the glass is half full or half empty as long as there's bacon on the plate.”

“When a glass sits on a table here, people don't wonder if it's half filled or half empty. They just hope it's good beer.”

“Were I to prescribe a rule for drinking, it should be formed upon a saying quoted by Sir William Temple: the first glass for myself, the second for my friends, the third for good humor, and the fourth for mine enemies.”

“I guess I just prefer to see the dark side of things. The glass is always half empty. And cracked. And I just cut my lip on it. And chipped a tooth.”

“Nothing in the world was more terrible than an empty bottle! Unless it was an empty glass.”