Best 1268 quotes in «wine quotes» category

Love is like wine, drink it as you rhyme.

Love is like wine, it gets better everyday.

Millions of deaths would not have happened if it weren’t for the consumption of alcohol. The same can be said about millions of births.

Mixing old wine with new wine is stupidity, but mixing old wisdom with new wisdom is maturity.

Most of the wine in the world sells for two dollars a bottle. Quite a bit sells for four dollars to five dollars a bottle, and there are many that sell for ten dollars a bottle. Then you have wines that sell for three hundred dollars a bottle. What the world needs is a beer that's worth five dollars a bottle. I think that would be great. If all beer prices are forced down to the level of Busch Bavarian, none of us will be there.

Most people whom you may view as wine experts are usually just good at one thing: winemakers are good at making wine, sommeliers at talking about it, and wine journalists at drinking it for free.

Making wine and drinking wine is not new to African Americans and others in the Diaspora. South Africa has a three-century history in growing, harvesting and distilling grapes as wine. The entire continent of Africa has a history in wine-making. In this country, slaves cultivated the vineyards owned by Thomas Jefferson and other vintners.

Love is more potent than wine; one drop can intoxicate you for a lifetime.

Mr. Emerson watched, almost breathless, as she swirled the wine in her glass expertly, then lifted it so that she could examine it more closely in the candlelight. She brought the glass to her nose, closed her eyes, and sniffed. Then she placed the glass to her plump lips and tasted the wine, holding it in her mouth for a while before swallowing. She opened her eyes, smiled even more widely, and thanked Antonio for his precious gift.

Maybe Angelo was right. Maybe there was something. I still suspected it was the wine.

Murder and a glass of wine: priceless

- Mr. Alakbarov, how much is the rent for this fantastic apartment? - Madam, this is the red wine aisle of the grocery store.

My love, suddenly your hip is the curve of the wineglass filled to the brim, your breast is the cluster, your hair the light of alcohol, your nipples, the grapes your navel pure seal stamped on your barrel of a belly, and your love the cascade of unquenchable wine, the brightness that falls on my senses, the earthen splendor of life.

My path is full of petals–I have swept it for no others. My thatch gate has been closed–but opens now for you. It’s a long way to the market, I can offer you little– Yet here in my cottage there is old wine for our cups.

No old road leads to new destinations! Change begins when one realizes that it is unwise to pour a new wine into an old wine skin. If you change your mind, you have to change your actions too!

Nothing with this woman was meant to be rushed. She was like a fine wine that only improved with age and time. Time she hadn’t been given growing up, but I’d waited close to a year. I could wait some more.

Not only too much wine makes you drunk, but too much beauty too!

Occasionally I have a glass of red wine. I don't consider it an alcoholic drink. I consider it a holy drink, something that can also be used as a curative.

Of course, my Christmas is (so much more) gorgeous and romantic (than Germany's)!! And unlike the rest of the world, we leave wine behind for Santa Claus!" "So Santa-san is delivering gifts to children while driving under the influence . . . ?

One of life's gifts is that each of us, no matter how tired and downtrodden, finds reasons for thankfulness: for the crops carried in from the fields and the grapes from the vineyard.

One of the cafés had that brilliant idea of putting up a slogan: 'the best protection against infection is a good bottle of wine', which confirmed an already prevalent opinion that alcohol is a safeguard against infectious disease. Every night, towards 2 a.m., quite a number of drunk men, ejected from the cafés , staggered down the streets, vociferating optimism.

One of the questions asked by al-Balkhi, and often repeated to this day, is this: Why do the children of Israel continue to suffer? My grandmother Dodo thought it was because the goyim were jealous. The seder for Passover (which is a shame-faced simulacrum of a Hellenic question-and-answer session, even including the wine) tells the children that it's one of those things that happens to every Jewish generation. After the Shoah or Endlösung or Holocaust, many rabbis tried to tell the survivors that the immolation had been a punishment for 'exile,' or for insufficient attention to the Covenant. This explanation was something of a flop with those whose parents or children had been the raw material for the 'proof,' so for a time the professional interpreters of god's will went decently quiet. This interval of ambivalence lasted until the war of 1967, when it was announced that the divine purpose could be discerned after all. How wrong, how foolish, to have announced its discovery prematurely! The exile and the Shoah could now both be understood, as part of a heavenly if somewhat roundabout scheme to recover the Western Wall in Jerusalem and other pieces of biblically mandated real estate. I regard it as a matter of self-respect to spit in public on rationalizations of this kind. (They are almost as repellent, in their combination of arrogance, masochism, and affected false modesty, as Edith Stein's 'offer' of her life to expiate the regrettable unbelief in Jesus of her former fellow Jews.) The sage Jews are those who have put religion behind them and become in so many societies the leaven of the secular and the atheist.

Never mind sipping mulled wine from a paper cup, I wanted to dunk my entire head in the punch bowl.

On the surface, I seem to be glad of new people; But doomed to leave old friends behind me, I cry out from my heart for Shin-Fêng wine To melt away my thousand woes.

No answer I could provide to that question could possibly serve my own future interests." Sarek straightened his sleeve and focused on her. "More wine, Wife?

One should not chug an entire glass of wine at an elegant dinner party. I start hacking and coughing, having practically water-boarded myself out of sheer humiliation.

O vinho ela aceita. Também aceita a lagosta, fala lagostim. Mas precisa lembrar a estatística das criancinhas morrendo de fome no Nordeste, esse assunto de Nordeste às vezes exorbita.

Ô, wine!, the truth-serum so potent that all those who wish to live happy lives should abstain from drinking it entirely!... except of course when they are alone.

Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.

Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent. When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise. While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine; and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine. Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.

People of balance age as gracefully as wines of balance.

People should have fun with wine. A bottle should sit on your dinner table like all of the other condiments.

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.

Sex là sự thật trong tất cả những sự dối trá

One sip of this wine and you will go mad with drunkenness. You will drop your masks and tear your clothes — destroying everything that separates you from the Lover. Once you taste the fruit of this vine, you will be kicked out of the city of yourself. You will forget the world. You will forget yourself. I tell you: you will become a madman who wanders the streets looking for the Lover once you drink this Wine of Love.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.