Quotes About Tavern

of the air-conditioned Faulk Street Tavern. It's there that high school teacher Meredith Benoit finds him. Due to a silly prank, her job and her reputation are in jeopardy. She needs a lawyer, fast. But the Magic

Identify yourselves. You on the left, who are you?" "My name is Gagaril," the man said. "I'm sorry," Lightsong said. The man flushed. "I was named after my father, Your Grace." "After he what? Spent an unusual amount of time at the local tavern?

Jesus Creeping God! Is there a priest in this tavern? I want to confess! I'm a fucking sinner! Venal, mortal, carnal, major, minor - however you want to call it, Lord... I'm guilty.

The lover drinksand the cup-bearer pours.The lover thinksbut the cup-bearer knows:love begets love.Since this wine is love, then this cup is love, then this tavern is love, then this life is love.

Christmas Eve, 1955, Benny Profane, wearing black levis, suede jacket, sneakers and big cowboy hat, happened to pass through Norfolk, Virginia. Given to sentimental impulses, he thought he'd look in on the Sailor's Grave, his old tin can's tavern on East Main Street.

Poe's Tavern, miss. That's what you said?

At the Moor Wanderer in the black wind; quietly the dry reeds whisper In the stillness of the moor. In the gray sky A flock of wild birds follows; Slanting over gloomy waters. Turmoil. In decayed hut The spirit of putrescence flutters with black wings. Crippled birches in the autumn wind. Evening in deserted tavern. The way home is scented all around By the soft gloom of grazing herds; Apparition of the night; toads plunge from brown waters.

Pensive chest nut tree in tavern garden. The damp bells have grown silent. A young lad sings by the stream - Fire seeking out darkness -

federal judge with the splendid name of Sterling Cato was to hold a territorial court nearby—not at a courthouse, for no such edifice existed, but at a tavern kept by a pro-slavery

From inside the tavern came the sounds of a fiddle being tuned, various plucks and tentative bowings, then a slow and groping attempt at Aura Lee, interrupted every few notes by unplanned squeaks and howls. Nevertheless the beautiful and familiar tune was impervious to poor performance, and Inman thought how painfully young it sounded, as if the pattern of its notes allowed no room to imagine a future clouded and tangled and diminished.

I knew that he would go out to the tavern, returning with eyes like glittering spoons.

The telling room is, in Spanish, known as 'el contador.'

Every species has its pub.

Hey bartender, hey man, look here. Give us one more, two more, three more glasses of beer.

The place was famous for always having 'six comely maidens' working there," I said, with air quotes, "'serving the customers ale and aught.'" "What's aught?" asked Tristan. "Whatever you want it to be," I said.

Tonight, just as the wan winter-evening light fanned out into all the colors of the hustlers' night, God tossed a handful of city rain across the green and red tavern legends like tossing a handful of red and green confetti. Overhead the wavering warning lamps of the El began casting a blood-colored light down the rails to guide the empty cars of evening down all the nameless tunnels of the night.

What ho, hostess! Where be these whores?

His tavern sign bore witness to his feats of arms. He had painted it himself, being a Jack-of-all-trades who did everything badly.

The lead of the first major Times article written by copy boy KURT EICHENWALD, 1986 LINDEN—Fuzzy peach navel is the recommended drink at the Old Tavern Inn here, one of the latest and most unlikely ripple effects of the American auto industry's march toward high technology.

C'mon on down to the Whiff and Spit; snuff it up and cough it out," Lewis chanted, giving it a catchy rhythem.

To Smade's Tavern in the July of 1524 came Kirth Gersen, representing himself as a locater.

I am more worried than I seem. I keep working in order not to have time to be by myself. All of this life of mine strikes me as exceedingly sad, aimless. Creativity is an intoxicating alcohol in this base tavern of the world.

Since much of American taxes prior to 1763 went to support the local clergy, one humorist suggested the opportunity to vote on that. If the minister was turned out, he could open a tavern and preach to his customers if he served them liquor.

A man may be ill regarded in his community, but hang him, or even imprison him, and he becomes a popular hero, the subject of tearful or indignant tavern ballads.