Quotes About Wine

I had just been introduced to wine and I remember being a little drunk and viewing the Place de la Concorde lit up at night and it was so beautiful, and I shook my fist at Paris like a character in Balzac and said wistfully, "You old whore." Unfortunately, I was facing a lady tourist from Detroit at the time and she didn't appreciate it.

On his youth, Yoshiro had prided himself of always having an answer ready when someone asked who his favorite composer or designer was, or what kind of wine he preferred. Confident in his good taste, he had poured time and money into surrounding himself with things that would show it off. Now he no longer felt any need to use taste as the bricks and mortar fora structure called «individuality».

It was Salvador Dalí who said the red wine of Cadaqués has the bitter taste of tears.

A bottle of wine begs to be shared; I have never met a miserly wine lover

To take wine into our mouths is to savor a droplet of the river of human history

Wine is] poetry in a bottle.

Religions change; beer and wine remain.

Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, There's always laughter and good red wine. At least I've always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!

Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, there's always laughter and good red wine.

For I know that Death is a guest divine, Who shall drink my blood as I drink this wine. —William Winter

I stand. "The Council wants Locke to arrange some amusement to please Grimsen. If it's nice, perhaps the smith will make you a cup that never runs out of wine." Carden gives me a look up through his lashes that I find hard to interpret and rises too. He takes my hand. "Nothing is sweeter," he says, kissing the back of it, "but that which is scarce." My skin flushes, hot and uncomfortable.

I am glad to have you march under my banner, glad of your loyalty, grateful for you honour.' His gaze goes to me. 'To you, I offer honey wine and the hospitality of my table. But to traitors and oath breakers, I offer my queen's hospitality. The hospitality of knives.

This is not how I meant to begin. I meant to give you wine and fruit and cheese. I meant to tell you how your hair is as beautiful as curling woodsmoke, your eyes the exact colour of walnuts. I thought I could compose an ode about it, but I am not very good at odes.' I laugh, and he covers his heart as though stung by cruelty

He smiles down at me, as if the reason I'm on my knees is because I am curtsying. I want to wipe that smile off his face, but maybe I can't. Maybe he'll go on smiling that way to his grave. 'Can't we stay out here?' Cardan asks me. 'There's wine out here.

I can smell spiced wine in the air, but not yet the other perfume of tournaments- fresh blood.

I poisoned you. Don't worry. It was a small dose. You'll live." "The cups of wine," he says. "But how did you know which one I would choose?" "I didn't," I tell him, thinking that he'll be at least a little pleased by the answer, despite himself. It is the kind of strategy he likes best. "I poisoned them both.

Mostly, his obligations appear to be allowing his ring-covered hands to be kissed and accepting the blandishments of the Folk. I'm sure he enjoys that part of it- the kisses, the bowing and scraping. He's certainly enjoying the wine.

Watching his fear ripen fills me with an almost voluptuous satisfaction. I, who have had little power in my life, must be on guard against that feeling. Power goes to my head too quickly, like faerie wine.

She [Helen] threw into the wine which they were drinking a drug which takes away grief and passion and brings forgetfulness of all ills.

The wine urges me on, the bewitching wine, which sets even a wise man to singing and to laughing gently and rouses him up to dance and brings forth words which were better unspoken.

I]t is the wine that leads me on, the wild wine that sets the wisest man to sing at the top of his lungs, laugh like a fool – it drives the man to dancing... it even tempts him to blurt out stories better never told.

A river town. The autumn rain has stopped. Our wine is gone. So, farewell!

To wash and rinse our souls of their age-old sorrows, We drained a hundred jugs of wine. A splendid night it was.... In the clear moonlight we were loath to go to bed, But at last drunkenness overtook us.

Now let you and me buy wine today! Why say we have not the price? My horse spotted with five flowers, My fur-coat worth a thousand pieces of gold, These I will take out, and call my boy To barter them for sweet wine. And with you twain, let me forget The sorrow of ten thousand ages!