Quotes About Grape

Patience, piety, and salutary knowledge spring up and ripen under the harrow of affliction; before there is wine or oil, the grape must be trodden and the oil pressed.

Before there is wine or there is oil, the grape must be trodden and the olive must be pressed.

Beaujolais is so underrated.

En realidad, no. Nosotros pisamos la uva. Al pisarla se produce un vino más suave con el máximo sabor, porque el pie no rompe las pepitas y así no liberan su amargura. Mientras tengamos pies, los usaremos con nuestra uva, por caro que resulte. Nos obliga a contratar mano de obra extraordinaria y convocar a los amigos para pisar las uvas de nuestras dieciocho hectáreas —explicó Mendes. —Es más fácil y más barato hacerlo así.

All I knew was that there was a wine called Chianti, which came in bottles with little baskets,

This is why Jesus is hymned not as grape juice but as wine: because He is dangerous and excessive.

No vivacious Bacchanalian flame leaped out of the pressed grape of Monsieur Defarge: but, a smouldering fire that burnt in the dark lay hidden in the dregs of it.

At some age you fancy you might rise above these sorts of things and at some age you dont. What is it that were looking for? It's not grace or salvation and it is droll beyond words to imagine that it's love. The ancients claim that there is truth in the grape, God knows I've looked.

grape, knife, cup, wheat / are symbols in eternity, / and every concrete object / has abstract value, is timeless / in the dream parallel

Art compares to nature like wine to the grape.

I am a mess. Like that MargieMocha, I am spilled across a floor, but there's nobody to mop me up. I have only one thing to show for the day: Perry Delloplane. The sound of a name. It is a grape in my mouth. I roll it over and over on my tongue--perrydelloplaneperrydelloplaneperrydelloplaneperrydelloplane--but when I try to crush it with my teeth, it slips away.

I'd rather spend my time with grape growers than actors. In the film industry, all the money is focused on television and the stupidity of American cinema.

Her expression changed then, becoming fearful rather than merely pained. It was the look you get when facing a sudden and insurmountable danger: the errant truck, the shakey ladder, the crazy person who pins you to the linoleum and insists, with increasing urgency, that everything you know and love can be undone by a grape.

What grape to keep its place in the sun, taught our ancestors to make wine?

I buried my father in my heart. Now he grows in me, my strange son, my little root who won't drink milk, little pale foot sunk in unheard-of night, little clock spring newly wet in the fire, little grape, parent to the future wine, a son the fruit of his own son, little father I ransom with my life

Man being reasonable must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication; Glory, the grape, love, gold - in these are sunk - The hopes of all men and of every nation

Nay, in death's hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove's.

I believe that the responsibility of the winemaker is to take that fruit and get it into the bottle as the most natural and purest expression of that vineyard, of the grape varietal or blend, and of the vintage.

Doves coo in the rafters above us as she sits down on the blanket, her loathed dress whispering around her. She pops a grape into her mouth and sighs. This is so unreal. I feel like a princess. She couldn't have given me a better opening for the conversation I've been hoping to have. Funny, I say. I was thinking the same thing. Delilah frowns. You feel like a princess too?

The juice of the grape is the liquid quintessence of concentrated sunbeams.

The culture of the hop ... so analagous to the culture and uses of the grape, may afford a theme for future poets.

French wine growers fear that this year's vintage may be entirely spoiled due to the grape treaders' sit-in.

Clos d'Yvigne, the dry white Bergerac

I wonder will I ever see a grape again? When I think of the vineyard where we met in October—when you dropped a cluster custom insisted you be kissed by a stranger—how after the harvest we plunged into a stream so icy our palms turned pink. It seemed our future was sealed.