Quotes About Vineyard

My grandparents in Istria had a frasca, which is about the most basic kind of grocery/restaurant. They sold wine from their own vineyard. I took control of the vineyard, hired a local winemaker, and bought another winery in 1996. We had our first commercial vintage in 1998.

The French make the best wine.

Two weeks later they met in Santa Rosa again, this time at a French restaurant in a vineyard, again small, where Brie could see every patron. And two weeks later, again Santa Rosa. When he first saw her, he wanted to rush to her, grab her up in his arms and hold her for a while, but he always put his hands in his pockets, smiled and nodded hello. By the sixth week and fourth lunch, she hugged him goodbye.

dello Sperone ch'era il miglior vigneto della nostra contrada

For Jesus, we are merely stewards of Mother Earth, nonviolent people living in and tending the Creator's glorious vineyard. We are not to destroy it or one another, but live and work in peace in this glorious creation. it's time we learn the lesson, Jesus tells us, and do our part to car for the vineyard of creation.

The body of water between Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket is the Muskeget Channel. "I

It's disorienting to visit the Vineyard in the manner of the lowliest of tourists: the day-tripper.

Schramsberg sparkling rosé

I'm not a Luddite, but I'm outside more than I'm on my computer. We have a micro-farm - it's a step up from a garden. We have a pretty extensive vineyard. We grow about 60 percent of our own food, make our own wine, have chickens for eggs.

Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru

I Do Not Sing Because I Dream I do not sing because I dream. I simply sing because you're real. I sing your ripened gaze, your purest smile, your animal grace. I sing because I am a man. And if I didn't sing I'd be just a brute, bursting with health, blind drunk and dizzy with delight there in your vineyard without wine. I sing because love wishes it. Because hay ripens in your arms, glistening wet. Because my body tightens facing them, bare and bathed in sweat.

We are all bound to work in the vineyard where God is the husbandman. We have all been given our little vineyard, but the way in which we cultivate it is of great importance for the prosperity of our neighbour's vineyard... In fact all our vineyards are a part of the Lord's great vineyard, the Holy Church, and we are all bound to work here too.

Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon

he crawled among the gnarls and snags of his father's vineyard, tying errant tendrils back to the stakes with rough brown cord that was to his mind the exact color and texture of righteous, doomed effort.

Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Montrachet.

The owner of the vineyard, after having sent in vain several stewards to collect his share of the harvest, decides to send "his beloved son." The tenants recognize that he is the heir and kill him to obtain the inheritance for themselves. This is the picture of the true son who obeys his father, not as a slave, but as the Beloved, and fulfills the will of the Father in full unity with him.

The caretakers of the Lord's vineyard will have the privilege and reward of bringing to Him the abundance of fruit from the maturing lives of those they shepherd. Precious fruit will come forth and be gathered to the Lord from the multitudes. As God gives the increase, the faithful labors of many will bear fruit.

Spring and Autumn Every season hath its pleasures; Spring may boast her flowery prime, Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.

There was a worm addicted to grape leaves, she continued, and suddenly it woke up. Call it a miracle, whatever, something woke it up and it wasn't a worm anymore. It was the whole vineyard, and the orchard too, the fruit, the trunks, an ever-expanding joy that didn't need to devour anything.

My big love is red wine and I once went to a vineyard in the Marlborough region of New Zealand, where we drank exquisite pinot noir.

who, from what I could tell, was a few years younger than I. He was sitting on the steps of the porch next to Davy Gude, another Vineyard boy, whose parents

grapes still sun-warmed

Emotionlessly she kissed me in the vineyard and walked off down the row. We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked up at each other for the last time.

Faith isn't an act of intelligence, it's an act of imagination. Every time you give them a new metaphor, a mustard seed, a field, a garden, a vineyard, it's like pointing something out to a cat - the cat looks at your finger, not at what you're pointing at. They don't need to understand it, they only need to believe, and they do. They imagine the kingdom as they need it to be, they don't need to grasp it, it's there already, they can let it be. Imagination, not intellect.