Quotes About Wine

This volume is dedicated to time. It gives us memories, fine wine, and wrinkles. But the only thing worse than getting old is not getting old. So here's to time, dear reader, yours and mine. May you have many more wrinkles, a lot of fine wine, and memories to last two lifetimes.

My father told us stories about our ancestors and about the city and how we should act. He told us that the four sins are wine, women, wealth, and wrath.

If wine is the enemy of religion, I shall devour the enemy of religion.

Continuously, in commemoration of the Friend We drank wine, even before the creation of the vine.

Si el vino es el enemigo de la religión, habré de devorar al enemigo de la religión.

Continuamente, en conmemoración del Amigo, bebimos vino, incluso antes de la creación de la vid.

Before garden, vine or grape was in the world," writes one, "our soul was drunken with immortal wine.

Antes de que el huerto, el vino o la uva estuviese en el mundo, nuestra alma estaba borracha de vino inmortal

El gran poeta Hafiz dice que deberías teñir tu alfombra de oraciones con vino si tu maestro te dice que lo hagas.

We knew giants then, before the wine soured.

The worst gift I was given is when I got out of rehab that Christmas; a bottle of wine. It was delicious.

the very least one requires for civilisation to survive is an adequate supply of sound wines.

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

Finish the wine," he suggested softly, "and let me have my way with you. And in the morning we'll both pretend that you don't remember.

I think he prefers 'traitor mage housecleaning' to diplomacy," I observed. Mychael took a healthy swig of his own wine. "Don't we all? It's certainly easier to know when you're making progress.

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

Happiness is a wine of the rarest vintage, and seems insipid to a vulgar taste.

Even choosing the perfect dinner wine loses its earth-shattering importance if your guests happen to be cannibals, and you, the unsuspecting entree.

My memory of my mom is a wine glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She was a runway fashion model, and she was quite a glamorous woman.

I've heard that men are like fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with. Me, I just want to do the stomping.

I've heard that men are like fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

I thought, you see, that there must be some connection between money and memorable experience; between rare wine and rare intelligence. In short, I was a romantic idiot.

Beneath her Marks and Spencer jersey, her heart sometimes called him darling, and after two glasses of Liebfraumilch, lover.

Drunkeness, she told us in a rare moment of confidence, is a sin against the fruit, the tree, the wine itself. Wine, distilled and nurtured from bud into fruit; it deserves reverance. Joy. Gentleness. (Page 194.)