The art of medicine in the season lies: Wine given in season oft will benefit, Which out of season injures.
Let my muse Fail of thy former helps, and only use Her inadulterate strength. What's done by me Hereafter shall smell of the lamp, not thee.
O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
A school without grades must have been concocted by someone who was drunk on non-alcoholic wine.
Addison writes with the ease of a gentleman. His readers fancy that a wise and accomplished companion is talking to them; so thathe insinuates his sentiments and taste into their minds by an imperceptible influence. Johnson writes like a teacher. He dictates to his readers as if from an academical chair. They attend with awe and admiration; and his precepts are impressed upon them by his commanding eloquence. Addison's style, like a light wine, pleases everybody from the first. Johnson's, like a liquor of more body, seems too strong at first, but, by degrees, is highly relished.
Two of the actors, Sean Bean and Orlando Bloom, have been caught between two landslides and are now trapped in a tiny town in the middle of the South Island. They have been taken in by a kindly woman who has offered them food and a bed. They were last reported to be cooking spaghetti and cracking into a bottle of red wine.
I like to drink wine more than I used to. Anyway, I'm drinking more.
What is Jordan that I should wash in it? What is the preaching that I should attend on it, while I hear nothing but what I knew before? What are these beggarly elements of water, bread, and wine? Are not these the reasonings of a soul that forgets who appoints the means of grace?
It seems that researchers at Colorado University say wine may help people lose weight. It's not the wine directly that causes the weight loss, it's all the walking around you do trying to find your car.
Ah, there should be a young man, ein schone Junge carrying Blumen, a bouquet of roses. There should be cold Rhine wine and Strausswaltzes, and on the long way home kisses in the shadow of an archway, like a Cinderella.
You can only know a good wine if you have first tasted a bad one.
now I bring full-flavoured wine out of a barrel found Where seven Ephesian topers slept and never knew When Alexander's empire passed, they slept so sound.
What if the Church and the State Are the mob that howls at the door! Wine shall run thick to the end, Bread taste sour.
even The bed of love, that in the imagination Had seemed to be the giver of all peace, Is no more than a wine-cup in the tasting, And as soon finished.
The Council of the Royal Society is a collection of men who elect each other to office and then dine together at the expense of this society to praise each other over wine and give each other medals.
I don't believe in angels but the moon is now dead for me. The last glass of wine is gone before the thirst I'm suffering from. The blue grass lost its way running away from your sails.
People who say that they can't appreciate a great wine generally haven't tasted one
Most wine knowledge does not directly enhance the pleasures to be had in drinking wine but, rather, enhances one's ability to discover such pleasures
The wine itself has aesthetic value; but what it is for a wine to have aesthetic value cannot be understood without making reference to the experience to tasting it
Unlike art which contains a message, wine conveys nothing, it has no intellectual or cognitive content
Remember, that when I speak of pleasures I always mean the elegant pleasures of a rational being, and not the brutal ones of a swine. I mean la bonne chère, short of gluttony; wine, infinitely short of drunkenness; play, without the least gaming; and gallantry, without debauchery.
A rake is a composition of all the lowest, most ignoble, degrading, and shameful vices; they all conspire to disgrace his character, and to ruin his fortune; while wine and the pox content which shall soonest and most effectually destroy his constitution.
Partake of love as a temperate man partakes of wine; do not become intoxicated.
A life of mere pleasure! A little while, in the spring-time of the senses, in the sunshine of prosperity, in the jubilee of health, it may seem well enough. But how insufficient, how mean, how terrible when age comes, and sorrow, and death! A life of pleasure! What does it look like when these great changes beat against it--when the realities of eternity stream in? It looks like the fragments of a feast, when the sun shines upon the withered garlands, and the tinsel, and the overturned tables, and the dead lees of wine.
What grape to keep its place in the sun, taught our ancestors to make wine?
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