Wine Quotes - Page 40

• Of course we got drunk!" Semyon said. "It's okay to get drunk, Anton. If you need to real bad. Only you have to get drunk on vodka. Cognac and wine—that's all for the heart." "So what's vodka for?" "For the soul. If it's hurting real bad

  Sergei Lukyanenko

  Hurt, Real, Heart

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• Youth is an intoxication without wine, someone says. Life is an intoxication. The only sober man is the melancholiac, who, disenchanted, looks at life, sees it as it really is, and cuts his throat. If this be so, I want to be very drunk. The great thing is to live, to clutch at our existence and race away with it in some great and enthralling pursuit. Above all, I must beware of all ultimate questions- they are too maddeningly unanswerable- let me eschew philosophy and burn Omar.

  W.N.P. Barbellion

  Philosophy, Cutting, Men

  W. N. P. Barbellion (1919). “The Journal of a Disappointed Man”

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• But I have never had the privilege of unhappiness in Happy Valley. California is about the good life. So a bad life there seems so much worse than a bad life anywhere else. Quality is an obsession there—good food, good wine, good movies, music, weather, cars. Those sound like the right things to shoot for, but the never-ending quality quest is a lot of pressure when you’re uncertain and disorganized and, not least, broker than broke. Some afternoons a person just wants to rent Die Hard, close the curtains, and have Cheerios for lunch.

  Sarah Vowell

  Good Life, Lunch, California

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• Men speak of dreaming as if it were a phenomenon of night and sleep. They should know better. All results achieved by us are self-promised, and all self-promises are made in dreams awake. Dreaming is the relief of labor,the wine that sustains us in act. We learn to love labor, not for itself, but for the opportunity it furnishes for dreaming, which is the great under-monotone of real life, unheard, unnoticed, because of its constancy. Living is dreaming. Only in the graves are there no dreams.

  Lew Wallace

  Dream, Real, Sleep

  Lew Wallace (2016). “Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ”, p.477, Bible Study Steps

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• The Gamma paused. “You have a crazed werewolf in your wine cellar?” “You can think of a better place to stash him?” “What about the wine?

  Gail Carriger

  Thinking, Werewolf, Cellars

  Gail Carriger (2011). “Heartless: Book 4 of The Parasol Protectorate”, p.136, Hachette UK

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• Oh my God, sociability is just a big smile and a big smile is nothing but teeth, I wish I could just stay up here and rest and be kind." But somebody brought up some wine and that started me off.

  Jack Kerouac

  Wish, Teeth, Be Kind

  Jack Kerouac (1986). “The Dharma Bums”, p.192, Penguin

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• Wine gave a sort of gallantry to their own failure.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Gallantry

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Echoes of the Jazz Age Collection: The Beautiful and Damned, Winter Dreams, The Great Gatsby, Babylon Revisited, The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and many more”, p.390, e-artnow

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• The most savory grape, the one that produces the wines with best texture and aroma, the sweetest and most generous, doesn't grow in rich soil but in stony land; the plant, with a mother's obstinacy, overcomes obstacles to thrust its roots deep into the ground and take advantage of every drop of water. That, my grandmother explained to me, is how flavors are concentrated in the grape.

  Isabel Allende

  Mother, Roots, Land

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• I have terrible nightmares, you know. Every night when I come home from a long day’s dying, I take off my skin and lay it nicely on my armoire. I take off my bones and hang them up on the hatstand. I set my scythe to washing on the old stove. I eat a nice supper of mouse-and-myrrh soup. Some nights I drink off a nice red wine. White does not agree with me. I lay myself down on a bed of lilies and still, I cannot sleep.

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Nice, Home, Sleep

  Catherynne M. Valente (2014). “The Fairyland Series”, p.175, Feiwel & Friends

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• This land, although not my native land, Will be remembered forever. And the sea's lightly iced, Unsalty water. The sand on the bottom is whiter than chalk, The air is heady, like wine, And the rosy body of the pines Is naked in the sunset hour. And the sunset itself on such waves of ether That I just can't comprehend Whether it is the end of the day, the end of the world, Or the mystery of mysteries in me again.

  Anna Akhmatova

  Sunset, Air, Sea

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• Keith was just bringing the glass to his lips when Adrian said, "Mmm. O positive, my favorite." Keith sprayed out the wine he'd just drunk and promptly started coughing. I was relieved that none got on me. jill burst into giggles, and Clarence stared at his glass wonderingly. "Is it? I thought it was a cabernet sauvignon." "So it is," said Adrian, straight-faced. "My mistake.

  Richelle Mead

  Mistake, Glasses, Drunk

  Richelle Mead (2011). “Bloodlines”, p.113, Penguin

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• Wine is bottled poetry, he thinks.

  Erin Morgenstern

  Thinking

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• Quiet friend who has come so far, feel how your breathing makes more space around you. Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell. As you ring, what batters you becomes your strength. Move back and forth into the change. What is it like, such intensity of pain? If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine. In this uncontainable night, be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses, the meaning discovered there. And if the world has ceased to hear you, say to the silent earth: I flow. To the rushing water, speak: I am.

  Rainer Maria Rilke

  Pain, Moving, Night

  Rainer Maria Rilke (2005). “In Praise of Mortality: Selections from Rainer Maria Rilke's Duino Elegies and Sonnets to Orpheus”, Riverhead Books (Hardcover)

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• the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced, and lest this be taken for wry sorrow, drown the spider in wine. you are much more than simply dead: I am a dish for your ashes, I am a fist for your vanished air. the most terrible thing about life is finding it gone.

  Charles Bukowski

  Taken, Air, Sorrow

  Charles Bukowski (2009). “sifting through the madness for the word, the line, the way: New Poems”, p.101, Zondervan

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• "Why is it that at a bachelor's establishment the servants invariably drink the champagne? I ask merely for information." "I attribute it to the superior quality of the wine, sir. I have often observed that in married households the champagne is rarely of a first-rate brand." "Good Heavens! Is marriage so demoralizing as that?" "I believe it is a very pleasant state, sir. I have had very little experience of it myself up to the present. I have only been married once. That was in consequence of a misunderstanding between myself and a young person."

  Oscar Wilde

  Believe, Heaven, Quality

  "The Importance of Being Earnest".

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• Perhaps we should never procure a new suit, however ragged or dirty the old, until we have so conducted or enterprised or sailed in some way, that we feel like new men in the old, and that to retain it would be like keeping new wine in old bottles.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Dirty, Men, Would Be

  Henry David Thoreau (2012). “Walden; Or, Life in the Woods”, p.15, Courier Corporation

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• Well enough. I won't ask you if your love is true or any of that rot—it's not my place to judge. After all, I'm a naked woman chained to a wall; I've no business questioning the lifestyles of wine-makers or anyone else.

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Wall, Love Is, Judging

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• Mind you, it’s all bullshit with wine, isn’t it? It’s just f**king vinegar with a fizz, no matter what the tasters say.

  Ozzy Osbourne

  Kings, Bullshit, Mind

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• Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda water the day after. Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication: Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk The hopes of all men, and of every nation; Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: But to return--Get very drunk; and when You wake with head-ache, you shall see what then.

  Lord Byron

  Laughter, Men, Drunk

  'Don Juan' (1819-24) canto 2, st. 179

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• In a low whisper she was certain only her friend could hear, she said, "I specifically remember we both promised never to drink from any man's goblet of wine. From the looks of you, Frances Catherine, I'm thinking you broke your word.

  Julie Garwood

  Men, Thinking, Looks

  Julie Garwood (2011). “The Secret”, p.84, Penguin

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• She was flushed and felt intoxicated with the sound of her own voice and the unaccustomed taste of candor. It muddled her like wine, or like a first breath of freedom.

  Kate Chopin

  Voice, Sound, Taste

  Kate Chopin (1899). “The Awakening”, p.48

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• but the real enemy is the cold. It steals up on you quieter than Will, and at first you shiver and your teeth chatter and you stamp your feet and dream of mulled wine and nice hot fires. It burns, it does. Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it. It's easier just to sit down ot go to sleep. They say you don't feel any pain toward the end. First you go weak and drowsy, and everything starts to fade, and then it's like sinking into a sea of warm milk. Peaceful, like.

  George R. R. Martin

  Dream, Pain, Real

  George R. R. Martin (2011). “A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle: A Song of Ice and Fire Series: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, and A Feast for Crows”, p.16, Bantam

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• Wine's terrible for babies." Dorian swept into the sitting room to join me, elegantly arranging himself on a love seat that displayed his purple velvet robes to best effect. "Well of course it is. I'd never dream of giving wine to an infant! What do you take me for, a barbarian? But for you... well, it might go a long way to make you a little less jumpy. You've been positively unbearable to live around. "I can't have it either. It affects the babies in utero.

  Richelle Mead

  Dream, Baby, Purple

  Richelle Mead (2011). “Shadow Heir”, p.16, Kensington Publishing Corp.

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• The bad blood rose in me, just like wine.

  Sarah Waters

  Blood, Rose, Bad Blood

  Sarah Waters (2002). “Fingersmith”, p.158, Penguin

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• Hiram!' Shelton ran to Hi's side. 'Aren't you you bleeding? I thought she shot you!' 'Red wine. When I saw it running everywhere, I played dead.' He winced as Shelton poked his belly. 'But I'm not leaping off any more shelves. That was pretty stupid.

  Kathy Reichs

  Running, Stupid, Red

  Kathy Reichs (2011). “Virals: (Virals 1)”, p.76, Random House

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