Best 1268 quotes in «wine quotes» category

Plato forbids children wine till eighteen years of age, and to get drunk till forty; but, after forty, gives them leave to please themselves, and to mix a little liberally in their feasts the influence of Dionysos, that good deity who restores to younger men their gaiety and to old men their youth...fit to inspire old men with mettle to divert themselves in dancing and music; things of great use, and that they dare not attempt when sober.

Protects your body's cells, keeping them young and strong, Drink red wine

Religion is a non-alcoholic man's alcohol. Alcohol is a non-religious man's religion.

Saying goodbye to a lover is like giving them the last wine drop in a glass about to break.

She wasn't my kind of woman and that's why, that night she was. This wine is the Blood of Christ. Brings the truth out of a woman sooner than any confession box does. Makes you trust a stranger with your life, your car keys, your best-guarded secret.

Sex là sự thật trong tất cả những sự dối trá

She kneeled down, opened the wine fridge, and scanned the shelves, filled with a variety of white wines. Sam began to pull each bottle out and read the labels; all of the wines were products of the dozens of vineyards that dotted northern Michigan, including the two peninsulas that ran north from Traverse City into Grand Traverse Bay. There was a wealth of whites- chardonnays, sauvignon blancs, Rieslings, rosés, and dessert wines. All of these were produced within a few miles of here, Sam thought, a feeling of pride filling her soul. Sam pulled out a pinot gris and stood. A few bottles of red gleamed in the fading day's light: a cab franc, a pinot noir, a merlot. Robust reds were a bit harder to come by in northern Michigan because of the weather and growing season, but Sam was happy to see such a selection. Sam had had the pleasure of meeting famed Italian chef Mario Batali at culinary school, and the two had bonded over Michigan. Batali owned a summer home in Northport, not far from Suttons Bay, and he had been influential early on in touting Michigan's summer produce and fruit, fresh fish, and local farms and wineries. When someone in class had mocked Michigan wines, saying they believed it was too cold to grow grapes, Batali had pointedly reminded them that Michigan was on the forty-fifth parallel, just like Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Alsace. Sam had then added that Lake Michigan acted like a big blanket or air conditioner along the state's coastline, and the effect created perfect temperatures and growing conditions for grapes and, of course, apples, cherries, asparagus, and so much more. Batali had winked at her, and Sam had purchased a pair of orange Crocs not long after in his honor.

So I went instead and tasted Taki's new white wine. Spiridion! what a wine...like the blood of a dragon and smooth as a fish...

Some people say, "What difference does it make what color the winemaker is that made the wine? Judge the wines off their own merit." Like, of course. And I do believe that my wine is judged off its own merit. But the fact is that when you walk into places and people can't believe that you're the principal or you're the owner or you made the wine, it's mind-blowing to me some days. It's like, wow. That's why we need to continue talking about it.

Some men drink the blood of other men, all I drink is wine.

Some people when they see cheese, chocolate or cake they don't think of calories.

Sometimes I ask myself how autumn smells? My answer: it's the smell of the autumn leaves firework and red wine.

Take it from glass, take it from goblet, else take it from my eyes, the intoxication, you will never come out from

Soon you catch your first glimpse of a vineyard basking in the sun, its broad leaves silently turning sunlight into sugar, ripening vitis vinifera, the European grapes that make the world’s finest wines. For a moment you might imagine you’ve been mysteriously wafted to the French countryside, but no, this is the East End of Long Island, the most exciting new wine region in North America. You’ve reached your destination, but your journey of discovery has barely begun

Studying wine taught me that there was a very big difference between soil and dirt: dirt is to soul what zombies are to humans. Soil is full of life, while dirt is devoid of it.

Take a glass of wine while reading, your feet on the back of your slave. This is the best combination of pleasures that is.

The artist's greatest creation began the night he washed his memory of his failures rubbed opium on his lips drank the wine that women offered him and lay down and wept.

That's what you people never understand," said Rincewind, wearily. "You think magic is just something you can pick up and use like a, a -" "Parsnip?" said Nijel. "Wine Bottle?" said the Seriph. "Something like that," said Rincewind cautiously, but rallied somewhat and went on, "But the truth is, is -" "Not like that?" "More like a wine bottle?" said the Seriph hopefully. "Magic uses people," said Rincewind hurriedly. "It affects you as much as you affect it, sort of thing. You can't mess around with magical things without it affecting you. I just thought I'd better warn you." "Like a wine bottle," said Creosote, "that -" "- drinks you back," said Rincewind.

That’s why you have to go and guilt him for all the trouble. It can’t be your fault that you lost your memory if he wasn’t smart enough to tell you about the wine.

The advertise their products in such a fashion as to make it seem wonderful to drink their ethanol products. It does not matter if they give their products fancy name like Cabernet Sauvignon or Pinot Noir, or if they put bubbles in an ethanol product and call it champagne or beer- everyone is selling ethanol.

The Artist started painting the Ancient Fire, inhaling the wine in search of philosophical beginnings…

The Clochemerle 1929 was a magnificent wine. Drinking it in small sips, his grace the Archbishop felt himself well disposed towards the Clochemerlins. It takes all sorts to make a world and a Church, to people Heaven and Hell. But there was no denying that it took capable vignerons to make a wine like this, men whose minds must on no account be distracted by excessive metaphysical cares.

The drunkard who is colorblind still sees where is the wine. (L'ivrogne qui est daltonien - Voit quand même où est le vin.)

The decision can’t alone be mine, While the chalice is still full of wine

The first miracle Jesus performed was instant winemaking. No wonder people loved Him! He probably received a bunch of wedding invitations after that one.

The first kiss and the first glass of wine are the best.

The HAPPIEST people don’t have the BEST of everything… They just drink WINE.

The Greeks have a trick of disguising a poor quality wine by adding pine resin to it, the idea being that the taste of the resin is not quite so appalling as the taste of the wine. We drank retsina because that was all there was.

The lover drinks and the cup-bearer pours. The lover thinks but the cup-bearer knows: love begets love. Since this wine is love, then this cup is love, then this tavern is love, then this life is love.

The more he drank the nicer he became; wine revealed his charity.

The noise of drinking was exhilarating. Champagne corks popped and the pale, chrysanthemum-coloured liquid, whispering gleefully with bubbles, hissed into the glasses; heavy red wine glupped into the goblets, thick and crimson as the blood of some mythical monster, and a swirling wreath of pink bubbles formed on the surface; the frosty white wine tiptoed into the glasses, shrilling, gleaming, now like diamonds, now like topaz; the ouzo lay transparent and innocent as the edge of a mountain pool until the water splashed in and the whole glass curdled like a conjuring trick, coiling and blurring into a summer cloud of moonstone white.

The prohibition of wine is a very wise maxism and meant for the common people, being the source of disorders amongst them, but that the prophet never designed to confine those that knew how to use it with moderation.

The night it falls The stars shine through The inky black That is the cue For plot demands That dreams be sown The fantasies I have alone The words come fast They flow like wine I am the midnight writer...

There are two things you should never do alone: one is get divorced, the other is drink.

There is a wine in an eternal love!

There is something about this wine and a jungle river at dusk when thirsty animals approach to drink. Over there you’ll find some philosophical beginnings…

There is truth in wine, but you never see it listed in the ingredients on the label

There was dancing to wear your feet down, and there were beautiful boys and girls, and kisses were cheaper than wine but the wine was sweet and the fruit sweeter. And you could still hear the music in your head.

There must be always wine and fellowship or we are truly lost.

The Rothschild is very lovely. You will be quite pleased. It reminds me of brown sugar, chocolate, and dried plum- very powerful and elegant. Let me show you. The color is remarkable." Escoffier uncorked the wine and slowly began to decant it in the candlelight, carefully leaving the sediment behind. "Amazing, isn't it? Rubies- those are the only things on this earth that are as beautiful as this is, are they not? No?" Gabetta watched as Escoffier deftly poured the ruby river of wine, gently, slowly and carefully. The musty air was filled with the particular lushness of late summer with its ripe cherries and tart apples.

There were, of course, compensatory advantages to growing older. ‘As I must leave off being young,’ Jane admitted, ‘I find many Douceurs … I am put on the Sofa near the Fire & can drink as much wine as I like.

The simplest definition of a great bottle of wine is when you feel sad because the bottle is empty.

The sun is my wine.

The sun is touching every door and making wonder of the wheat. The first wine is pink in colour, is sweet with the sweetness of a child, the second wine is able-bodied, strong like the voice of a sailor, the third wine is a topaz, is a poppy and a fire in one. My house has both the sea and the earth, my woman has great eyes the colour of wild hazelnut, when night comes down, the sea puts on a dress of white and green...

The syndicate was successful in including an officer and two other crew members in its plan. Sheikh employed old ways of enticing by wine, women and money to use them.

The time must come when this coast (Cape Cod) will be a place of resort for those New-Englanders who really wish to visit the sea-side. At present it is wholly unknown to the fashionable world, and probably it will never be agreeable to them. If it is merely a ten-pin alley, or a circular railway, or an ocean of mint-julep, that the visitor is in search of, — if he thinks more of the wine than the brine, as I suspect some do at Newport, — I trust that for a long time he will be disappointed here. But this shore will never be more attractive than it is now.

The whiskey was a good start. I got the idea from Dylan Thomas. He's this poet who drank twenty-one straight whiskeys at the White Horse Tavern in New York and then died on the spot from alcohol poisoning. I've always wanted to hear the bartender's side of the story. What was it like watching this guy drink himself out of here? How did it feel handing him number twenty-one and watching his face crumple up before the fall of the stool? And did he already have number twenty-two poured, waiting for this big fat tip, and then have to drink it himself after whoever came took the body away?

The waiter uncorked the bottle and poured the first taste. Pierre swirled and then lifted the glass to his nose to inhale the bouquet, the aroma of France, his homeland, He savored the taste of familiar tannins and metals, the acidity a bittersweet reminder of the laughter of children in the fields, of adults cheering long summer evenings, of long-buried emotions, Claire alive in his mouth, Pierre swallowed the wine and approved with a nod the waiter´s choice of bottle, the wine, like him, a survivor in a far-flung place.

Too often we only identify the crucial points in our lives in retrospect. At the time we are too absorbed in the fetid detail of the moment to spot where it is leading us. But not this time. I was experiencing one of my dad’s deafening moments. If my life could be understood as a meal of many courses (and let’s be honest, much of it actually was), then I had finished the starters and I was limbering up for the main event. So far, of course, I had made a stinking mess of it. I had spilled the wine. I had dropped my cutlery on the floor and sprayed the fine white linen with sauce. I had even spat out some of my food because I didn’t like the taste of it. “But it doesn’t matter because, look, here come the waiters. They are scraping away the debris with their little horn and steel blades, pulled with studied grace from the hidden pockets of their white aprons. They are laying new tablecloths, arranging new cutlery, placing before me great domed wine glasses, newly polished to a sparkle. There are more dishes to come, more flavors to try, and this time I will not spill or spit or drop or splash. I will not push the plate away from me, the food only half eaten. I am ready for everything they are preparing to serve me. Be in no doubt; it will all be fine.” (pp.115-6)

The wine must have done its job, because I am relaxed and finally at ease. Yes, it’s definitely the wine. Otherwise I wouldn't have started singing out of the blue in a million years.