Quotes About Wine

On Saturday afternoons when all the things are done in the house and there's no real work to be done, I play Bach and Chopin and turn it up real loudly and get a good bottle of chardonnay and sit out on my deck and look out at the garden.

The Chinese do make vast quantities of wine for home consumption, but you wouldn't want to drink it yourself.

I'm very much a homebody so once I have my home set up how I want it, that's my zen, my comfy little nest where I drink my wine and watch my Netflix.

It's in my blood. My great-grandfather made wine and it's a tradition I want to pass on to my son.

Let others seek renown in arms; For me wine's wars have greater charms: Then fill the bowl, boy; fill it high: 'Tis better drunk, than dead to lie.

He talked with more claret than clarity.

Magic, madam, is like wine and, if you are not used to it, it will make you drunk.

About halfway through my glass of wine, my head starts feeling foggy, so I change to water instead. I don't like the feeling and hope it wears off soon. How Haymitch can stand walking around like this full-time is a mystery.

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

Song of Solomon 1:2- Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.

You trample on hearts as if they're grapes and you're making wine.

You were like fine wine, but cheap wine gets you drunk faster.

Further, many writers and scholars speak in private, say, after half a bottle of wine, differently from the way they do in print. Their writing is certifiably fake, fake. And many of the problems of society come from the argument "other people are doing it." So if I call someone a dangerous ethically challenged fragilista in private after the third glass of Lebanese wine (white), I will be obligated to do so here.

As to liquid, my rule is drink no liquid that is not at least a thousand years old—so its fitness has been tested. I drink just wine, water, and coffee. No soft drinks. Perhaps the most possibly deceitfully noxious drink is the orange juice we make poor innocent people imbibe at the breakfast table while, thanks to marketing, we convince them it is "healthy.

These feelings, together with the deep degradation of his mind, made him resolve that no circumstances should again draw him into an axcess of wine.

In order not to feel time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, get drunk and stay that way. On what? On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever. But get drunk!

Work makes prosperous days, wine makes happy Sundays. - Wine and Hashish

I prefer to African wines, to opium, to burgundy, The elixir of your mouth where love parades itself; When my desires leave in caravan for you, Your eyes are the reservoir where my cares drink. — Charles Baudelaire, from "Sed Non Satiata," Fleurs du mal / Flowers of Evil . Translated by Geoffrey Wagner. (David R. Godine; First edition, second printing edition October 1, 1985) Originally published 1857.

Una noche, el alma del vino cantó en las botellas: ¡Hombre, hacia ti elevo, ¡oh! querido desheredado, Bajo mi prisión de vidrio y mis lacres bermejos, Una canción colmada de luz y de fraternidad!

i am with the roots of flowers entwined, entombed sending up my passionate blossoms as a flight of rockets and argument; wine churls my throat, above me feet walk upon my brain, monkies fall from the sky clutching photographs of the planets, but i seek only music and the leisure of my pain

I was fairly poor but most of my money went for wine and classical music. I loved to mix the two together.

the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced, and lest this be taken for wry sorrow, drown the spider in wine. you are much more than simply dead: I am a dish for your ashes, I am a fist for your vanished air. the most terrible thing about life is finding it gone.

there was something about that city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so many others needed. it let me alone. sitting up in my bed the lights out, hearing the outside sounds, lifting my cheap bottle of wine, letting the warmth of the grape enter me as I heard the rats moving about the room, I preferred them to humans. being lost, being crazy maybe is not so bad if you can be that way undisturbed. New Orleans gave me that. nobody ever called my name.

yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut