Best 1268 quotes in «wine quotes» category

A glass of water with peace is better than several glasses of wine with trouble. Here's a glass of water . . . Cheers to the good life

A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapors which environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit.

Ah, wine. Wine was my friend. Wine understood me. Wine knew that it was entirely possible to be one hundred percent happy for your sisters and also ten percent jealous, because Wine does not care about mathematics.

Ah, wine. Wine was my friend. Wine understood me. Wine knew that it was entirely possible to be one hundred percent happy for your sisters and also ten percent jealous, because Wine does not care about mathematics. Harlow, Melanie (2016-02-09). Some Sort of Love: A Happy Crazy Love Novel (Kindle Locations 44-46). . Kindle Edition.

Ah, Shiraz! What a town! The rose gardens, the nightingales. Paradise. You know, I got a hold of some wine while I was there. I'll never forget that bouquet." Julian cleared his throat. " 'Rose petals let us scatter and fill the cup with red wine, the firmaments let us shatter and come with a new design.' " He lifted his glass in a toast to Hafez's ode to the fermented grape. Marjan met his toast with her own glass.

A man does not know the full depth of his thoughts till he picks up a pen and writes; Or till he picks up a bottle and drinks; Both have roughly the same amount of intoxicating influence; With the former, they sometimes come out refined; With the latter, they always come out unscripted; Pick your poison wisely, Spill your innards sparingly

A small frosted glass of umeshu (plum wine) sat on a white paper coaster toward the top. The syrupy wine, actually made from small Japanese apricots, had a honeyed smoothness and a fruity finish that left behind a streak of warmth.

AMUSING MYSELF Facing my wine, I did not see the dusk, Falling blossoms have filled the folds of my clothes. Drunk, I rise and approach the moon in the stream, Birds are far off, people too are few.

And of a Sunday swarm the folk Under the honeysuckle vine, Quaffing, the while they talk and smoke, The sun, the melody, the wine.

And you, their best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin; my bountiful wine-press for awhile; and shall later on be my companion and my helper.

Anyone can produce a blend full of complexity, but a monovarietal that exudes complex layers is a sign of a master winemaker.

As if the dead really do persist, even in a bottle of wine.

As we hypnotically watch the steadily diminishing reserve of sand in life's hourglass, the instincts of a miser surface. Life is now savored, sipped as with a fine 19th Century French wine.

And sorrows return, though we drown them with wine, Since the world can in no way answer our craving, I will loosen my hair tomorrow and take to a fishingboat.

As long as I can hear the sweet melody of your words, I need not; The angel’s secret, to be whispered in my ears As long as I can lace your silky fingers round my own, I need not; Pretty diamonds, nor big cash nor gold As long as I can watch the handsome sunshine of your face, I need not; Open skies, nor snowfall, nor the rain As long as I can gaze into the emeralds of your eyes, I need not; New colors, new wings or paradise As long as I can feel the tender tickle of your breath, I need not; The drifting wind, nor its call, nor caress As long as I can feel your soft lips upon mine, I need not; Melted sugar, nor the most expensive of wines As long as I can feel your warm body close to me I need not; A blanket, nor a bonfire's luxury As long as I can see you every morning I wake, I need not; A mirror, nor a cloud, nor shade As long as I can keep you in every petal of memories I need not: Dreams, nor desires, nor fantasies And as long as I can hold you in every moment that I breathe, I need not; Oxygen, nor blood, nor heartbeats.

At least with the Catholics, you know that when someone hands you a cracker there’s gonna be wine in the mix at some point.

At times all you need is a bottle of fine old wine, a mellifluous piece of music playing in the background and a good book to spend the entire night in a magical bliss!

At the end of the day…we are anchoring into the peaceful lagoon, smiling at the majestic sun and its flirting rays, slowly slipping into the glittering ballroom of immense night skies, sipping on the platinum moon liquor under the blues of rippling waves kissing my golden foot hanging over the board of gently rocking boat, and diving into the bed of galaxies whispering magical stories of their eternal lives connecting souls…till the dawn…

Books are worse than wine, I say. You read one and you need another - there's no end to it. What ails you that you cannot content yourself with just living on under the sun?

BALLS! We want the finest wines available to humanity. We want them HERE, and we want them NOW.

Before I was married I learned the difference between a cheap and expensive wine after I was married I learned to drink the cheap wine.

Best wines with character have abyss within.

A vine bears three grapes, the first of pleasure, the second of drunkenness, and the third of repentance.

Beer is man's drink. Water is God's drink. Wine is everyone's drink. Whiskey is the Devil's soup.

Being loud after drinking wine doesn't help. Being silent after drinking wine doesn't help. Nothing really ever gets solved either way.

Blood and wine are interchangeable. Love and hate are unrecognizable. Sanity is no longer with me.

Comienzan las alucinaciones. Los objetos exteriores adoptan apariencias monstruosas. Se te revelan en formas hasta entonces desconocidas. Luego se deforman, se transforman y, por fin, entran en tu ser o tú entras en ellos. Los equívocos más singulares, las más inexplicables transposiciones de ideas se producen. Los sonidos tienen color, los colores tienen música. Las notas musicales son númerosy resuelves con pasmosa rapidez prodigiosos cálculos aritméticos a medida que la música se desarrolla en tus oídos. Estás sentado y fumas; crees estar sentado en tu pipa y tu pipa te está fumando a ti; eres tú el que se exhala en forma de nubes azuladas.

Come boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our host decrees no water here. Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew, The sluggish thin their blood with dew. For such pale stuff we have no use; For us the purple grape's rich juice. Begone, ye chilling water sprite; Here burning Bacchus rules tonight!

Don't drive a car in the dream, else you won't drive it on earth. Don't wish to become, else you won't become. Don't associate with fools, else your ancestors will be insulted. Don't be addicted to wine, else your pocket will be empty. Don't be drunk, else you'll be attacked.

Death is a poison parsley on a dessert wine.

Count Olaf had taken out a bottle of wine to pour himself some breakfast, but when he saw the book he stopped, and sat down.

Drinking turns a fool into a merry fool.

Drinking wine was not historically limited to people who could afford it. Western and European culture turned it into an elite thing. Winemakers were farmers and field workers. Everyday people. And that’s who should enjoy and have access to wine.

Drink wine with me, and be less Tartarean.

Drink wine in new cities. Forget that you were ever intoxicated by the vowels of his name.

Drink freely the wine life offers you and don't worry how much you spill.

During the first millennium BCE, even the beer-loving Mesopotamians turned their backs on beer, which was dethroned as the most cultured and civilized of drinks, and the age of wine began.

Ever since, in the U.K. they banned smoking in public places, I've never enjoyed a drinks party ever again. And the reason, I only worked out just the other day, is when you go to a drinks party and you stand up and you hold a glass of red wine and you talk endlessly to people, you don't actually want to spend all the time talking. It's really, really tiring. Sometimes you just want to stand there silently, alone with your thoughts. Sometimes you just want to stand in the corner and stare out of the window. Now the problem is, when you can't smoke, if you stand and stare out of the window on your own, you're an antisocial, friendless idiot. If you stand and stare out of the window on your own with a cigarette, you're a fucking philosopher.

For at the end of the day, what matters is never the wine, it's always the moment; it's always the people.

Hay cuatro cosas viejas que son buenas: viejos amigos, para conversar; leña vieja, para calentarse; viejos vinos, para beber; y viejos libros para leer.

Got any more of that wine, Casanova?" "I'm French, Sarah, not Italian. And I'm a vampire. I always have wine," Matthew said with a wicked smile. "There's no danger of running out.

He came of a race of drinkers who look contemptuously upon an alcoholic content of twelve percent, unaware that the fermented grape works its enchantments more subtly than the distilled spirits of grain. I do not imply that he was drunk; let us say, rather, that the Tears of Christ opened his heart.

He could pass off the inferior bottles on tables seven and four. Table seven knew nothing of wine, sending back a bottle of Riesling as "corked" because it had bits of cork in it, the imbeciles. Table four had gulped down a very special old pale brandy as though it was common wood alcohol, which was probably what they had been drinking because they had said that his brandy lacked bite. They deserved inferior burgundy. The bottles that had been stored too close to the stove might have enough bite by now for table four. A wine waiter's revenge may be long in coming, but it arrives in the end.

He'd heard of elvenblossom wine. It was known for its stultifying bouquet of fruit blossoms and the battle-axe power of its alcohol content. Only those of elven blood could stomach the sweet stuff, he'd heard, and it was the alcoholic equivalent of being kicked in the head by a centaur.

Here’s a random factoid: I like cats. And here’s another: I like red wine.

He looked as if he had been beaten to death with a wine bottle, but by doing it with the contents of the bottle.

How very like you, Puck.” Ash’s voice came from a great distance, and the room started to spin. “Offer them a taste of faery wine, and act surprised when they’re consumed by it.” That struck me as hilarious, and I broke into hysterical giggles. And once I began, I couldn’t stop. I laughed until I was gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face. My feet itched and my skin crawled. I needed to move, to do something. I tried standing up, wanting to spin and dance, but the room tilted violently and I fell, still shrieking with laughter. Somebody caught me, scooping me off my feet and into their arms. I smelled frost and winter, and heard an exasperated sigh from somewhere above my head. “What are you doing, Ash?” I heard someone ask. A familiar voice, though I couldn’t think of his name, or why he sounded so suspicious. “I’m taking her back to her room.” The person above me sounded wonderfully calm and deep. I sighed and settled into his arms. “She’ll have to sleep off the effects of the fruit. We’ll likely be here another day because of your idiocy.” The other voice said something garbled and unintelligible. I was suddenly too sleepy and light-headed to care. Relaxing against the mysterious person’s chest, I fell into a heady sleep.

He seemed to be lying on the bed. He could not see very well. Her youthful, rapacious face, with blackened eyebrows, leaned over him as he sprawled there. “‘How about my present?’ she demanded, half wheedling, half menacing. “Never mind that now. To work! Come here. Not a bad mouth. Come here. Come closer. Ah! “No. No use. Impossible. The will but not the way. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Try again. No. The booze, it must be. See Macbeth. One last try. No, no use. Not this evening, I’m afraid. “All right, Dora, don’t you worry. You’ll get your two quid all right. We aren’t paying by results. “He made a clumsy gesture. ‘Here, give us that bottle. That bottle off the dressing-table.’ “Dora brought it. Ah, that’s better. That at least doesn’t fail.

He wrote her name in wine. So she showered his soul in stardust.

Hitch hiked a thousand miles and brought You wine