Abadal Wine Quotes

A dozen cobras moved as one, shattering their bottles. Wine and glass sprayed the room. The snakes sprang for Isyllt's attacker with fangs unfolded. He screamed high and sharp as they uncoiled, long slick bodies whipping through the air. She wasn't sure if their venom could survive death and pickling, but it didn't seem to matter. After several bites, he curled on the floor, weeping and trying to bat the undead snakes away. ~ Amanda Downum

Their little party was completed by Katharine and Laura, the friendly, easygoing lesbians from Tennessee. They came with copious amounts of alcohol (one can always depend on the lapsed Christians to bring the bar): pale ale for the butches, and drinkable red wine. ~ Chana Porter

Timeless
Days without rhythm
Without bottom or top
In the arms of my lover
Time seems to stop.
Days become months
Which flow into years
Love's hourglass measures
Just two kinds of tears.
The first kind is cheery,
It sweetens the cheek;
The other burns bleary
It's black and it's bleak.

This Sunday or Friday,
I'm not quite sure when,
I'm going to turn thirty,
Or twenty, or ten?
It'll be my love's birthday
Or was it just mine?
I doesn't much matter
There's plenty of wine.
Should she go to heaven,
I dread to know when,
I'll count every second
Till we meet again. ~ Beryl Dov

Enjoy your life, fill your belly with wine and food, and accept death. The Gods kept immortality for themselves, death is the lot of man. ~ Anne Rice

They travelled for thirteen hours down-hill, whilst the streams broadened and the mountains shrank, and the vegetation changed, and the people ceased being ugly and drinking beer, and began instead to drink wine and to be beautiful. ~ E. M. Forster

The 'good' mother, with her fixed smile, her rigidity, her goody-goody outlook, her obsession with unnecessary hygiene, is in fact a fool. It is the 'bad' mother, unafraid of a joke and a glass of wine, richly self-expressive, scornful of suburban values, who is, in reality, good. ~ Rachel Cusk

Wines are like people. Some are perfect but boring, some are precocious but fail to live up to their promise, and some may be flawed, but the way they may develop is endlessly fascinating. ~ Michael Broadbent

This race is never grateful: from the first, One fills their cup at supper with pure wine, Which back they give at cross-time on a sponge, In bitter vinegar. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I buried my father in my heart.
Now he grows in me, my strange son,
my little root who won't drink milk,
little pale foot sunk in unheard-of night,
little clock spring newly wet
in the fire, little grape, parent to the future
wine, a son the fruit of his own son,
little father I ransom with my life ~ Li-Young Lee

I wonder if you know yet that you'll leave me. That you are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body. You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I'll go back to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name. ~ Clementine Von Radics

I'll call you Tuesday," he whispered. I lifted my wineglass his way and invited, "You do that." He didn't move. I took another sip of wine. When I lowered my glass, reading me yet again, he noted, "You're not gonna answer." "Nope," I replied, sounding shockingly cavalier considering my insides were bleeding. ~ Kristen Ashley

I am sitting at my kitchen table waiting for my lover to arrive with lettuce and tomatoes and rum and sherry wine and a big floury loaf of bread in the fading sunlight. Coffee is percolating gently, and my mood is mellow. I have been very happy lately, just wallowing in it selfishly, knowing it will not last very long, which is all the more reason to enjoy it now. I suppose life always ends badly for almost everybody. We must have long fingers and catch at whatever we can while it is passing near us. ~ Tennessee Williams

The wine is drawn, M. le Marquis...we must drink it.' ~ William Makepeace Thackeray

Most sacraments are acts of breathtaking simplicity: a simple prayer, a sip of wine and a piece of bread, a single breath in meditation, a sprinkling of water on the forehead, an exchange of rings, a kind word, a blessing. Any of these, performed in a moment of mindfulness, may open the doors of our spiritual perception and bring nourishment and delight. ~ Mark Nepo

He thought: Oh, I have fed on honey-dew. On wine and whiskey and champagne and the tender white meat of women and fine clothes and the respect of strong men and the fear of weak and the turn of a card and good horses and the crisp of greenbacks and the cool of mornings and all the elbow room that God or man could ask for. I have had high times. But the best times of all were afterward, just afterward, with the gun warm in my hand, the bite of smoke in my nose, the taste of death on my tongue, my heart high in my gullet, the danger past, and then the sweat, suddenly, and the nothingness, and the sweet clean feel of being born. ~ Glendon Swarthout

There are more old drunkards than old physicians. ~ Francois Rabelais

It is science that brings us an understanding of the true complexity of natural systems. The insights from the science of ecology are teaching us how to work with the checks and balances of nature, and encouraging a new, rational, limited-input, environmentally sound means of vineyard management that offers a third way between the ideologically driven approach of Biodynamics and conventional chemical-based agricultural systems. ~ Jamie Goode

Fire had come to know more about the insignificant habits and tastes of Lord Mydogg, Lord Gentian, Murgda, Gunner, all their households and all their guests than any person could care to know. She knew Gentian was ambitious but also slightly featherbrained at times and had a delicate stomach, ate no rich foods, and drank only water. She knew his son Gunner was cleverer than his father, a reputable soldier, a bit of an ascetic when it came to wine and women. Mydogg was the opposite, denied himself no pleasure, was lavish with his favorites and stingy with everyone else. Murgda was stingy with everyone including herself, and was said to be exceedingly fond of bread pudding. ~ Kristin Cashore

When you buy just two or three tons from a grower, they see the artisan work you do with their grapes, and then they want to give you their good fruit. By keeping small I can put my heart into it. ~ John Bennett Ramsey

Since once again, O Lord, in the steppes of Asia, I have no bread, no wine, no altar, I will raise myself above those symbols to the pure majesty of reality, and I will offer to you, I, your priest, upon the altar of the entire earth, the labor and the suffering of the world. ~ Pierre Teilhard De Chardin

Those were drinking days, and most men drank hard. So very great is the improvement Time has brought about in such habits, that a moderate statement of the quantity of wine and punch which one man would swallow in the course of a night, without any detriment to his reputation as a perfect gentleman, would seem, in these days, a ridiculous exaggeration. ~ Charles Dickens

Wine is a peep-hole on a man. ~ Alcaeus

This is in thee a nature but infected;
A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?
This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;
Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness. ~ William Shakespeare

Excellent wine generates enthusiasm. And whatever you do with enthusiasm is generally successful. ~ Philippe De Rothschild

Voluptuous?"
Grey smiled at the naughty light in her gaze. "A full subscription. Perhaps you will discover between the pages other activities you would like to sample with me."
It wasn't much of a gift, certainly not an expensive one, but Rose embraced him as though he had given her the world-and he had the wine stains on his cuffs to prove it. "Thank you!" She kissed his cheek. "Oh, Grey, thank you so much!"
"It's only a magazine, Rose, but you are welcome."
She pulled back so that he could see her face, the delighted flush in her cheeks. "It's not just a magazine. It's a gesture of…trust and respect. Do you know how many husbands would forbid their wives to read such literature?"
Yes, he did, and he would hardly call it literature. "I'm of the opinion that a husband can only benefit from his wife reading this kind of material."
A coy, seductive-wonderfully wicked-smile curved her full lips. "Perhaps we will both benefit."
He could shag her senseless right then and there. He gave her back her wine instead, and positioned himself with his back against the headboard. He tugged her close, turning her so that she sat with her back against his chest. "Read to me."
She looked horrified at the idea. "What? No, I couldn't."
Grey trailed his fingers down the side of her neck, smiling smugly as she shivered. "Read it. Please."
Her fingers trembled slightly as they parted the pages. "What would you like to hear?"
"A story," he repl ~ Kathryn Smith

How they succumbed to the same diseases,
which brought down the mighty Roman Empire.
The wrote all over al-Andalus "La-Ghaliba Illa'Llah"
{There is no vanquisher except Allah} but they
worshipped the mata'al-dunya {pleasure of the world}
and traded their souls for gold, glory, women and wine,
only to end like stray donkeys,
kicked around by the boots of Ferdinand and Isabella. ~ M. Kamal Hassan

Peter lifted his head. Hook's hair was tangled around his face like a lion's mane and his eyes were painfully clear, all teasing and mirth gone from his mouth.
He took Peter's chin in his hand, his fingers calloused but gentle, and kissed him.
Everything in the world grew quiet and Peter's body grew loud. The caress of Hook's fingertips under his chin made his pulse catch, his throat flushing, shoulders tightening. He could only seem to breathe in, breathe Hook in deeper. Hook's lips were dry, and he tasted like salt and sweet wine. He smelled like gunpowder and the sea and he was everywhere, shifting closer across the leaves, his other arm snaking around Peter's waist, the iron claw pressed flat between his shoulder blades.
Peter dug his fingers into fistfuls of earth, trying to ground himself as Hook pulled them together, tipping Peter's head back with the gentle thrust of his kiss, a momentum that threatened to tilt them both to the ground. Peter was impossibly hot, hot to his fingertips and toes and his skin was crawling with the need to be touched, the shock of that need.
Sweat caught at the back of his shirt. His skin was stark canvas begging for ink, and Hook's touch was going to stain him forever. It was too much, too sudden. Peter recoiled, yanking a knife from his boot and holding it between them. He didn't mean it as a threat, just a way to make distance where none had been. ~ Austin Chant

Wine is not discovered but made: it is an artifact that can be appraised that can be appraised aesthetically ~ Tim Crane

We will never fight again, our lovely, quick, template-ready arguments. Our delicate cross-stitch of bickers.

The house becomes a physical encyclopedia of no-longer hers, which shocks and shocks and is the principal difference between our house and a house where illness has worked away. Ill people, in their last day on Earth, do not leave notes stuck to bottles of red wine saying 'OH NO YOU DON'T COCK-CHEEK'. She was not busy dying, and there is no detritus of care, she was simply busy living, and then she was gone.

She won't ever use (make-up, turmeric, hairbrush, thesaurus).

She will never finish (Patricia Highsmith novel, peanut butter, lip balm).

And I will never shop for green Virago Classics for her birthday.

I will stop finding her hairs.


I will stop hearing her breathing. ~ Max Porter

Hide our ignorance as we will, an evening of wine soon reveals it. ~ Heraclitus

She knew the way of things. She knew if
you weren't always stepping lightly as a bird the whole
world came apart to crush you. Like a house of cards.
Like a bottle against stones. Like a wrist pinned hard
beneath a hand with the hot breath smell of want and
wine. . . . ~ Patrick Rothfuss

And what do you say of lovers of wine ... they are glad of any pretext of drinking any wine ~ Plato

Better a dish of husks to the accompaniment of a muted lute than to be satiated with stewed shark's fin and rich spiced wine of which the cost is frequently mentioned by the provider. ~ Ernest Bramah

There's volumes to be said for a wine that takes you three glasses to decide whether you find it compelling or repellent." - EVAN AND BRIAN MITCHELL The Psychology of Wine ~ Karen MacNeil

The books downstairs were reciting their poetry to each other, rubbing together, whispering through the leathery covers. Wine was flowing through the water pipes. You had caught my leaping heart in your hands like a fish. ~ Francesca Lia Block

What is man, when you come to think upon him, but a minutely set, ingenious machine for turning with infinite artfulness, the red wine of Shiraz into urine? ~ Isak Dinesen