Quotes About Tavern

It was busy in the tavern. Noisy with idle chatter and hot with wasted breath, the windows misted so the street outside became a sparkling blur. One of those places where rich young men gather to pretend to be poor young men, and vomit up whatever point of view they last heard.

Tavern" I'll keep a little tavern Below the high hill's crest, Wherein all grey-eyed people May sit them down and rest. There shall be plates a-plenty, And mugs to melt the chill Of all the grey-eyed people Who happen up the hill. There sound will sleep the traveller, And dream his journey's end, But I will rouse at midnight The falling fire to tend. Aye, 'tis a curious fancy-- But all the good I know Was taught me out of two grey eyes A long time ago.

There is a tavern in the town,And there my true love sits him down,And drinks his wine with laughter and with glee,And never, never thinks of me.

Strange Type I wrote: in the dark cavern of our birth. The printer had it tavern, which seems better: But herein lies the subject of our mirth, Since on the next page death appears as dearth. So it may be that God's word was distraction, Which to our strange type appears destruction, Which is bitter.

As soon as I enter the door of a tavern, I experience oblivion of care, and a freedom from solicitude. There is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.

It was becoming somewhat more difficult, too, to open a "public house" or tavern for the sale of liquor. Municipal authorities now requested applicants for a license to present a certificate attesting they were "of good life & Conversation and fitt to keep such a house.

There is no private house in which people can enjoy themselves so well as at a capital tavern... No, Sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern. When I get back around to that place, I'll be completely sober.

I am a drunkard from another kind of tavern. I dance to a silent tune. I am the symphony of stars.

The church is close, but the road is icey. The tavern is far, but I will walk carefully.

There is nothing like the long passage through the damp dark night, and then the sudden opening of the door of the tavern into an entire little universe of light and warmth and singing and laughing humans.

I had seen it with my own eyes, this obsession. I had seen it in a matter of moments in a riverfront tavern, but I had known it for what it was.

Souls of Poets dead and gone,What Elysium have ye known,Happy field or mossy cavern,Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?Have ye tippled drink more fineThan mine host's Canary wine?

People go to church for the same reasons they go to a tavern: to stupefy themselves, to forget their misery, to imagine themselves, for a few minutes anyway, free and happy.

the familiar smells of a busy tavern at an hour closer to dawn than dinner. Sweat, scalded meat, puke, blood, smoke, and a dozen kinds of bad ale and wine: the bouquet of the civilized nightlife.

A moment later Jean was squeezing past those brutes, into the familiar smells of a busy tavern at an hour closer to dawn than dinner. Sweat, scalded meat, puke, blood, smoke, and a dozen kinds of bad ale and wine: the bouquet of the civilized nightlife.

And this I know; whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, One flash of it within the Tavern caught Better than in the temple lost outright.

They were talking about me, I was sure of it. And I couldn't for the life of me imagine why. I continued inspecting the asparagus, early peas, and summer squash—produce that my mother had, as usual, commissioned me to procure for the tavern.

Ay, rail at gaming - 'tis a rich topic, and affords noble declamation. Go, preach against it in the city - you'll find a congregation in every tavern.

There once was a mouse who lived in a tavern. One night the mouse found a leaky barrel of beer, and he drank all he could hold. When the mouse had finished, he sat up, twirled his whiskers, and looked around arrogantly. "Now then," he said, "where's that damned cat?

In the early 1900s, wrestlers who attained main event success were largely all tough men who could handle themselves in any environment whether it be in a wrestling ring or a tavern.

ARTERIES HARDENED AND LUNGS blackened just by opening the door of the Weak Signal Bar and Grill. The seedy crowd brought plenty of colorful terminology to mind, but "health conscious" and "long life span" were not among them.

Once-dominant games like straight pool and three-cushion billiards have lost ground to eight-ball - the game of choice for millions of tavern league players - and nine-ball, the preeminent tournament game.

The Cavaliere is no democrat. But his chilly heart is not insensitive to a certain idea of justice. Not for him the behavior of his grandfather, of whom it is told that he brained a serving boy while drunk in a tavern near London, and retired without realizing what he had done. The distraught taverner followed him to his room and said, "My lord, do you know that you killed that boy?" Stammered the Cavaliere's ancestor: "Put him on the bill." *