Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

I’m like old wine. They don’t bring me out very often, but I’m well preserved.

They can do without architecture who have no olives nor wines in the cellar.

Beauty is worse than wine, it intoxicates both the holder and beholder.

My definition of palatable might be slightly different from yours.

Wine is one of the most civilized things in the world and one of the most natural things of the world that has been brought to the greatest perfection, and it offers a greater range for enjoyment and appreciation than, possibly, any other purely sensory thing.

Too much of anything is bad, but too much Champagne is just right.

We’ve got wars. Imagine having more money, you could buy more beer. Have you been to Dublin in its heyday like in the boom heyday at like 4:00 in the morning on a Sunday or Saturday? It’s like beyond New Orleans. It’s like St. Patrick’s Day every day. It’s not good. I don’t even like pubs anymore. I like going for a meal and having a bottle of wine. Be more gentle.

From age 16, I lived and breathed wine. I read every magazine and book about wine.

The custom of saluting [i.e., embracing] ladies by their relatives and friends was introduced, it is said, by the early Romans, not out of respect originally, but to find by their breath whether they had been drinking wine, this being criminal for women to do, as it sometimes led to adultery.

Come sit with me! Let us drink the holy wine of happiness.

Wine, like food, is so emotional. If you think about it, so much of the courting ritual is surrounded by wine and food. There’s a built-in romance to wine.

Give me a flagon of red wine, a book of verses, a loaf of bread, and a little idleness. If with such store I might sit by thy dear side in some lonely place, I should deem myself happier than a king in his kingdom.

I wish it were possible, from this instance, to invent a method of embalming drowned persons in such a manner that they may be recalled to life at any period, however distant; for having a very ardent desire to see and observe the state of America a hundred years hence, I should prefer to any ordinary death the being immersed in a cask of Madeira wine with a few friends till that time, to be then recalled to life by the solar warmth of my dear country!

The most important things are actually the easiest to obtain: great friends, good food, and a decent bottle of wine.

Genuine recollections almost invariably explain oneself to oneself. Suppose, for example, that you feel an instinctive aversion to some particular kind of wine. Try as you will, you can find no reason for it. Suppose when you explore a previous incarnation, you remember you died by a poisoned administered in a wine of that kind, your aversion is explained by the proverb: ‘A burnt child dreads the fire.’

Ive always loved my red wine, and when Im not working I can open a bottle too many. I love to cook, so its one for me and one for the casserole. I would consume a bottle of wine on my own of an evening and then literally pass out.

Wine makes daily living easier, less hurried with fewer tensions and more tolerance.

Conversation is the enemy of good wine and food.

Unlike water or wine or even Coca-Cola, sweet tea means something. It is a tell, a tradition. Sweet tea isn’t a drink, really. It’s culture in a glass.

Lord, by the words of consecration the substance of the bread and wine is converted into the substance of your Body and Blood. All powerful Lord, say over me the word which will change me into You.

Wine, women and song have been replaced by prune juice, a heating pad and the Gong Show.

I’m on a lot of airplanes, so I just sip on red wine thinking of stupid ideas and, when I think of it, I wanna make it happen.

Nothing is so effective in keeping one young and full of lust as a discriminating palate thoroughly satisfied at least once a day

Yeah Jesus could turn water in to wine, but he didn’t share. Douche.

Never, never trust anyone who asks for white wine. It means they’re phonies.

I really think there’s an evolution to the practice and the individual no matter what brings you in, whether it’s wine and yoga or chocolate and yoga or surfing and yoga.

Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.

It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now.

Champagne is the one thing that gives me zest when I am tired.

…stories about [the German composer Johannes] Brahms’s rudeness and wit amused me in particular. For instance, I loved the one about how a great wine connoisseur invited the composer to dinner. ‘This is the Brahms of my cellar,’ he said to his guests, producing a dust-covered bottle and pouring some into the master’s glass. Brahms looked first at the color of the wine, then sniffed its bouquet, finally took a sip, and put the glass down without saying a word. ‘Don’t you like it?’ asked the host. ‘Hmm,’ Brahms muttered. ‘Better bring your Beethoven!’

If I give you a good wine, you will see how it tastes and after you ask where it comes from.

One that hath wine as a chain about his wits, such a one lives no life at all.

There were a hundred booksellers in the old round city founded by the eighth-century caliph al-Mansur. The café and wine-drinking culture of Baghdad has been famous for centuries; there was a whole school of Iraqi poets who wrote poems about the wine bars of medieval Baghdad – the khamriyaat, or wine songs, that I quote in the book.

Too much and too little wine. Give him none, he cannot find truth; give him too much, the same.