There are three things that none of the young men of the present generation can do.They can't sit over their wine;they can't play at wist;and they can't pay a lady a compliment.
I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.
Fill till the wine o'erswell the cup
Humans! They lived in the world where the grass continued to be green and the sun rose every day and flowers regularly turned into fruit, and what impressed them? Weeping statues. And wine made out of water! A mere quantum-mechanistic tunnel effect, that'd happen anyway if you were prepared to wait zillions of years. As if the turning of sunlight into wine, by means of vines and grapes and time and anzymes, wasn't a thousand times more impressive and happened all the time...
As if the dead really do persist, even in a bottle of wine.
Just because I'm resisting the wine doesn't mean I can't appreciate the bouquet.
The bad blood rose in me, just like wine.
I'm like a fine wine. I get better with age. The best is yet to come.
And sometimes, I tell them, I like to put my head back, like this, and let the rain fall in my mouth. It tastes just like wine. Have you ever tried it?
It's not sipping wine. It's a mourning wine. You drain it. Like this.
There are three things, and three things only, that can lift the pain of mortality and ease the ravages of life. These are wine, women and song
How ironic! After decades of grub, deluges of wine and alcohol of every sort, after a life spent in butter, cream, rich sauces, and oil in constant, knowingly orchestrated and meticulously cajoled excess, my trustiest right-hand men, Sir Liver and his associate Stomach, are doing marvelously well and it is my heart that is giving out. I am dying of cardiac insufficiency. What a bitter pill to swallow.
The French are often, when it comes to wine, so formal that they border on the ridiculous.
Wine is the refined jewel that only a grown woman will prefer to the sparkling trinkets adored by little girls.
When a private talk over a bottle of wine is broadcast on the radio, what can it mean but that the world is turning into a concentration camp?
She was flushed and felt intoxicated with the sound of her own voice and the unaccustomed taste of candor. It muddled her like wine, or like a first breath of freedom.
As he followed Bill back to the others a wry though came to him, born no doubt of the wine he had drunk. He seemed set on course to become just as reckless a godfather to Teddy Lupin as Sirius Black had been to him.
Side by side with the human race there runs another race of beings, the inhuman ones, the race of artists who, goaded by unknown impulses, take the lifeless mass of humanity and by the fever and ferment with which they imbue it turn this soggy dough into bread and the bread into wine and the wine into song.
Wine is bottled poetry, he thinks.
As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.
Drinking wine was not a snobbism nor a sign of sophistication nor a cult; it was as natural as eating and to me as necessary...
It was like certain dinners I remember from the war. There was much wine, an ignored tension, and a feeling of things coming that you could not prevent happening. Under the wine I lost the disgusted feeling and was happy. It seemed they were all such nice people.
It was pleasant to drive back to the hotel in the late afternoon, above a sea as mysteriously colored as the agates and cornelians of childhood, green as green milk, blue as laundry water, wine dark.
Simultaneously the whole party moved toward the water, super-ready from the long, forced inaction, passing from the heat to the cool with the gourmandise of a tingling curry eaten with chilled white wine.
He knew that Hop-Frog was not fond of wine; for it excited the poor cripple almost to madness; and madness is no comfortable feeling.
But now I discovered the wonderful power of wine. I understood why men become drunkards. For the way it worked on me was not at all that it blotted out these sorrows, but that it made them seem glorious and noble, like sad music, and I somehow great and revered for feeling them.
Wherever you look there's meanness and corruption. This room, this bottle of grape wine, these fruits in the basket, are all products of profit and loss. A fellow can't live without giving his passive acceptance to meanness. Somebody wears his tail to a frazzle for every mouthful we eat and every stitch we wear-and nobody seems to know. Everybody is blind, dumb, and blunt-headed-stupid and mean.
So much the worse for those who fear wine, for it is because they have some bad thoughts which they are afraid the liquor will extract from their hearts.
You can't rush good wine.
A book of verses underneath the bough, A jug of wine, a loaf of bread-and thou.
Well, as the great chief is to determine the matter, I hope the Great Spirit will put sense enough into his head to induce him to direct you to give up this land. It is true, he is so far off he will not be injured by the war. He may sit still in his town, and drink his wine, while you and I will have to fight it out.
I'm a huge fan of this wine. This place is so special it would be silly to change it. It's not about making more, it's about keeping it great.
The difference is when you pick the grapes and how you blend. If the fruit can carry the alcohol, the wine is balanced.
But in taking life for myself,
In seizing and crushing their souls,
As a child crushes grapes and drinks
From its palms the purple juice,
I came to this wingless void,
Where neither red, nor gold, nor wine,
Nor the rhythm of life are known.
Sharon has transformed his image from that of a headstrong adventurer into a father of the nation. Like a good wine, he has aged well.
Beauty is worse than wine, it intoxicates both the holder and beholder.
I like natural wine. If a wine's too technical, I'm turned off.
In Italy, they add work and life on to food and wine.
Rudolph (the leading character) If you's go stop three tradesmen on the street, and ask the three what it is they live by, they'll reply at once, bread, meat and drink, and they'll be certain of it victuals and drink, like the rhyme in Mother Goose, makes up their diet nothing will be said of faith in things unseen, or following the gleam, just bread and meat and a can of wine to wash it down. But if you know them well, behind the fish-eyes and the bellies, if you know them better than they do, each one burns candles at some alter of his mind in secret in secret often, from himself, each is a priest to some dim mystery by which he lives. Strip him of that, and bread and meat and wine won't nourish him ... without his ... hidden faith, he dies and goes to dust.
The government of the world I live in was not framed, like that of Britain, in after-dinner conversations over the wine.
The Fox reopens as a very flexible space, an art deco convention center really. For example, we can use the new lobby spaces as dinner seating for banquets. We have also added a facility that caterers can use to serve meals, and we'll have a license for beer and wine.
My memory of my mom is a wine glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She was a runway fashion model, and she was quite a glamorous woman.
I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
No occupation; all men idle, all;
And women too, but innocent and pure;
So troll until the rafter rings,
And may my life be long
To praise the Lord for precious things
like Women, Wine and Song.
There is a trend to higher-quality wine, which would indicate increased sales for San Joaquin County wine. We don't participate in the jug-wine market.
It's been a bit more difficult. It's challenging. But the wine speaks for itself.
I am not old but mellow like good wine.
A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine, As my small cruse best fits my little wine.
I spent ninety percent of my money on wine, women and song and just wasted the other ten percent.
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
and rocky cliffs,
as song is born.