Ale Quotes

It comes in pints? ~ Peter Jackson

What I am interested in, what I write and care about, exists in the slow lane, somewhere between hand-ploughed fields and a pint of real ale. ~ Fennel Hudson

They weren't happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken or the ale
and yet they weren't unhappy either. There was an unmistakable air of natural intimacy about the picture and anybody would have said that they were conspiring together. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

We don't lock up books in this house," Philippe said, "only food, ale, and wine. Reading Herodotus or Aquinas seldom leads to bad behavior. ~ Deborah Harkness

He was sitting in the back of the booth, and Lila on the outside edge, as far from him as possible. She couldn't shake the feeling he was watching her beneath that brimmed cap, even though every time she checked, his attention was leveled on the tavern behind her head. His fingers traced absent pattern in a pool of spilled ale, but his green eye twitched in concentration. It took her several long seconds to realize he was counting bodies in the room.

"Nineteen," she said coolly, and Alucard and Kell both looked at her as if she'd spoken out of turn, but Holland simply answered, "Twenty," and despite herself, Lila swiveled in her seat. She did a swift count. He was right. She'd missed on e of the men behind the bar. Dammit.

"If you have to use your eyes," he added, "you're doing it wrong. ~ V.E Schwab

And he set to rhyme his ale-measures,
And he sang aloud his laws,
Because of the joy of giants,
The joy without a cause. ~ G.K. Chesterton

At five that night, I went back to the market and bought three sixteen-ounce Rainier Ales. I bounced back to my house, Mary Lou Retton-like, sipped the first ale, took the Valium, smoked a joint, drank the second ale, took another Valium, listened to "Into the Mystic" ten times, drank the third Ale, too the Valium and the Halcion, and discovered two unhappy thoughts. One was it was only seven o'clock. The second was that I was wide awake. ~ Anne Lamott

For one hour a day, Lucifer took a break from his surveillance to indulge a guilty pleasure: drinking a tall, icy glass of Schweppes ginger ale and watching The O'Reilly Factor. ~ Robert Kroese

May you always have ale enough to wet your tongues, wit enough to know friend from foe, and strength enough for every fight. ~ Stephen R. Lawhead

Tons of comedians have said, 'I grew up learning from Bill Cosby. He's great.' But that respect doesn't mean much to the young people. They like their ginger ale with hot sauce. ~ Bill Cosby

Kartik places a sovereign in the lady's cup, and I know that it's likely all he has.
"Why did you do that?" I ask.
He kicks a rock on the ground, balancing it nimbly between his feet like a ball. "She needed it."
Father says it isn't good to give money to beggers. They'll only spend it unwisely on drink or other pleasures. "She might buy ale with it."
He shrugs. "Then she'll have ale. It isn't the pound that matters; it's the hope ... I know what it's like to fight for things that others take for granted. ~ Libba Bray

She was luxuriously tired and her muscles felt sore from the unaccustomed strain of riding astride. Nothing had ever tasted so good as the cool golden ale she swallowed from a pewter tankard. She slept deeply that night and longer than she had intended ... ~ Kathleen Winsor

Nothing quenches the thirst like a wheat beer, or sharpens the appetite like an India pale ale. Nothing goes as well with seafood as a dry porter or stout, or accompanies chocolate like an imperial stout. Nothing soothes like a barleywine. These are just a few of the specialty styles of beer. ~ Michael Jackson

Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think. ~ A.E. Housman

The roots and herbes beaten and put into new ale or beer and daily drunk, cleareth, strengtheneth and quickeneth the sight of the eyes. ~ Nicholas Culpeper

The immediate occasion of this practice was the lowness of wages, which at that time would not allow them to indulge in ale or spirits, and wages rising, it may be thought that this practice would cease; but as I do not readily believe that any man having once tasted the divine luxuries of opium will afterwards descend to the gross and mortal enjoyments of alcohol, I take it for granted,
That those eat now who never ate before;
And those who always ate, now eat the more. ~ Thomas De Quincey

It is better to think of church in the ale-house than to think of the ale-house in church. ~ Martin Luther

Brusco had a bad back, and could not lift anything heavier than a tankard of brown ale. ~ George R R Martin

Gundar's smile broadened at the memory of that evening as he recalled how his rough-and-tumble sailors had stayed on their best manners, humbly asking their table companions to pass the meat, please, or requesting just a little more ale in their drinking mugs. These were men who were accustomed to cursing heartily, tearing legs off roast boar wih their bare hands and occasionally swilling ale traight from the keg. Their attempts at mingling with polite society would have made the basis of some great stories back in Skandia. ~ John Flanagan

Old G.K. knew when to fast and when to down a good ale. It's the timing. It's all in the timing. [On G.K. Chesterton] ~ Michael D. O'Brien

Peasant families ate pork, beef, or game only a few times a year; fowls and eggs were eaten far more often. Milk, butter, and hard cheeses were too expensive for the average peasant. As for vegetables, the most common were cabbage and watercress. Wild carrots were also popular in some places. Parsnips became widespread by the sixteenth century, and German writings from the mid-1500s indicate that beet roots were a preferred food there. Rutabagas were developed during the Middle Ages by crossing turnips with cabbage, and monastic gardens were known for their asparagus and artichokes. However, as a New World vegetable, the potato was not introduced into Europe until the late 1500s or early 1600s, and for a long time it was thought to be merely a decorative plant.

"Most people ate only two meals a day. In most places, water was not the normal beverage. In Italy and France people drank wine, in Germany and England ale or beer. ~ Patricia D. Netzley

Just because your head knows something it does not mean that your heart agrees. ~ Ale Meza-Santiago

We took a hike in Malibu and shared ice cream. I stayed with him while he had walking pneumonia, heating soup and pouring him glass after glass of ginger ale and feeling his fevered forehead as he slept. He warned me of the life that was coming for me if I wasn't careful. Success was a scary thing for a young person, he said. I was twenty-four and he was thirty-three ("Jesus's age," he reminded me more than a few times). There was something tender about him, broken and gentle, and I could imagine that sex with him might be similar. I wouldn't have to pretend like I did with other guys. Maybe we would both cry. Maybe it would feel just as good as sharing a bed. On Valentine's Day, I put on lace underwear and begged him to please, finally, have sex with me. The litany of excuses he presented in response was comic in its tragedy: "I want to get to know you." "I don't have a condom." "I'm scared, because I just like you too much." He took an Ambien and fell asleep, arm over my side, and as I lay there, wide awake and itchy in my lingerie set, it occurred to me: this was humiliating, unsexy, and, worst sin of all, boring. This wasn't comfort. This was paralysis. This was distance passing for connection. I was being desexualized in slow motion, becoming a teddy bear with breasts. ~ Lena Dunham

So laugh, lads, and quaff, lads, twill make you stout and hale; through all my days, I'll sing the praise of brown October ale. ~ Reginald De Koven

Sir Toby Belch: "Dost think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?" (Twelfth Night) ~ William Shakespeare

GIVE ME A WHISKEY...GINGER ALE ON THE SIDE...AND DONT BE STINGY BABY ~ Garbo

The lower classes of people in Europe may at some future period
be much better instructed than they are at present; they may be taught
to employ the little spare time they have in many better ways than at
the ale-house; they may live under better and more equal laws than they
have ever hitherto done, perhaps, in any country; and I even conceive it
possible, though not probable that they may have more leisure; but it is
not in the nature of things that they can be awarded such a quantity of
money or subsistence as will allow them all to marry early, in the full
confidence that they shall be able to provide with ease for a numerous
family. ~ Thomas Robert Malthus

the only way to be happy is to be free ~ Ale Barrenechea

Aggressively whisk the egg mix until it's well integrated with the ale. Once the two of them are over their differences and appear to be getting along well, introduce the gin. Your aggressive whisking will make the ale, eggs and gin forget their differences as they vow to team up against you. ~ Chris-Rachael Oseland

While snow the window-panes bedim,
The fire curls up a sunny charm,
Where, creaming o'er the pitcher's rim,
The flowering ale is set to warm;
Mirth, full of joy as summer bees,
Sits there, its pleasures to impart,
And children, 'tween their parent's knees,
Sing scraps of carols o'er by heart. ~ John Clare

The Reformation was a time when men went blind, staggering drunk because they had discovered, in the dusty basement of late medievalism, a whole cellar full of fifteen-hundred-year-old, two-hundred proof Grace–bottle after bottle of pure distilate of Scripture, one sip of which would convince anyone that God saves us single-handedly. The word of the Gospel–after all those centuries of trying to lift yourself into heaven by worrying about the perfection of your bootstraps–suddenly turned out to be a flat announcement that the saved were home before they started…Grace has to be drunk straight: no water, no ice, and certainly no ginger ale; neither goodness, nor badness, not the flowers that bloom in the spring of super spirituality could be allowed to enter into the case. ~ Robert Farrar Capon

Well now, what's the problem?" Hawk asked after a long swallow to banish the dust of the training field.
Dragon hesitated but, to his credit, not for long. "I brought a girl with me. Krysta is seeing to her now. She's Lady Rycca of Wolscroft."
Hawk's brows rose slightly. "Your betrothed."
"My errant betrothed. I met her a few days ago, apparently after she donned boy's garb and fled from her home rather than come here and be married to me."
Hawk cleared his throat, decided this was a good time for more ale, and emptied the horn. He finished up with a deep breath before attempting a response. "I see . . . well, I don't actually. She was dressed as a boy, you met several days ago, but you didn't bring her until now?"
"I didn't know who she was. She wouldn't tell me her name so I - " His mouth thinned sardonically. "I decided not to tell her mine. Clever, don't you think?"
"Why do I have the distinct impression that it was anything but?"
"Not knowing who I was - " Dragon broke off. His gaze sought a distant corner of the hall. Quietly, he said, "Not knowing who I was, she lay with me. ~ Josie Litton

Most of what presents itself to us in the marketplace as a product is in truth a web of relationships, between people, yes, but also between ourselves and all the other species on which we still depend. Eating and drinking especially implicate us in the natural world in ways that the industrial economy, with its long and illegible supply chains, would have us forget. The beer in that bottle, I'm reminded as soon as I brew it myself, ultimately comes not from a factory but from nature - from a field of barley snapping in the wind, from a hops vine clambering over a trellis, from a host of invisible microbes feasting on sugars. It took the carefully orchestrated collaboration of three far-flung taxonomic kingdoms - plants, animals, and fungi - to produce that ale. To make it yourself once in a while, to handle the barley and inhale the aroma of hops and yeast, becomes, among other things, a form of observance, a weekend ritual of remembrance. ~ Michael Pollan

There's plenty of food here," Erik said dismissively. "We have fish traps and eel traps, we net wildfowl and eat well. And the prospect of silver and gold buys a lot of wheat, barley, oats, meat, fish, and ale. ~ Bernard Cornwell

A Christian might drink only ginger ale at the tavern bar, but there he is already on the way to drinking beer and whiskey. The girl who attends a ball but never dances a step, will soon surrender her body to the lustful embrace of every casual male acquaintance as other dancers do. ~ John R. Rice

Ireland?" he said. "I'm from Ireland! Why do you think I came here?" he said. "Nothing good in Ireland." He frowned. "Except the ale. The ale is fine. ~ A.C. Gaughen

Idle men make mischief, especially idle men supplied with ale, whores, and weapons. ~ Bernard Cornwell

What shocked us the most was that we had no idea why we should be so shocked. Like opening a ginger ale and finding Jamesons' inside: nothing wrong with it, but it sort of takes you by surprise. ~ Spider Robinson

Beer for breakfast, ale for lunch, stout with dinner and a few mugs in between. The average Northern European, including women and children drank three liters of beer a day. That's almost two six-packs, but often the beer had a much higher alcoholic content. People in positions of power, like the police, drank much more. Finnish soldiers were given a ration of five liters of strong ale a day (about as much as seven six-packs). Monks in Sussex made do with 12 cans worth. ~ Stewart Lee Allen

As Antony said to Cleopatra, as he opened a crate of ale;
Oh I say, some girls are bigger than others. ~ Morrissey

That obstinate sense of independence was the biggest challenge I face in building my little house (that, and not always knowing what I was doing). I was stubborn in the way I hated to ask for help. Some people are good at it, asking friends or their husbands to collect ginger ale and crackers at the grocery because they feel nauseous, or standing on the side of the road with a tire iron in one hand, hoping someone will stop to change their flat tire. I'm not like that; I'd rather have a rough stick dragged across my gums than walk to the neighbor's house to borrow sugar or ask for help jump-starting my car. ~ Dee Williams

Christmas Eve Punch Ingredients 2 cups water ¾ cup sugar ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon 4 cups chilled cranberry/apple juice 1 46-ounce can chilled pineapple juice 1 liter chilled ginger ale In a large saucepan bring your water, sugar, and cinnamon to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Chill. Before you serve, add the sugar water mixture, chilled juices, and ginger ale to a large punch bowl. Serve in party glasses over ice. ~ Lee Hollis

T is sweet to win, no matter how, one's laurels,
By blood or ink; 't is sweet to put an end
To strife; 't is sometimes sweet to have our quarrels,
Particularly with a tiresome friend:
Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels;
Dear is the helpless creature we defend
Against the world; and dear the schoolboy spot
We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot.
But sweeter still than this, than these, than all,
Is first and passionate Love - it stands alone,
Like Adam's recollection of his fall;
The Tree of Knowledge has been plucked - all 's known
And Life yields nothing further to recall
Worthy of this ambrosial sin, so shown,
No doubt in fable, as the unforgiven
Fire which Prometheus filched for us from Heaven. ~ George Gordon Byron

My brave husband came back from fighting the Turks and brought me a robe of silk and a necklace of human teeth. He sat up at night by his hearth telling tales of battle. Apparently the Turks are ten times more ferocious and fearless than the Scots. 'Perhaps we should invite them here to drive the Scots back,' I suggested, and he laughed, but he didn't kiss me. That's when I learned the truth about scars. A man with a battle scar is a veteran, a hero, given an honoured place at the fire. Small boys gaze up fascinated, dreaming of winning such badges of courage. Maids caress his thighs with their buttocks as they bend over to mull his ale. Women cluck and cosset, and if in time other men grow a little weary of that tale of honour, then they call for his cup to be filled again and again until he is fuddled and dozes quietly in the warmth of the embers.

But a scarred woman is not encouraged to tell her story. Boys jeer and mothers cross themselves. Pregnant women will not come close for fear that if they look upon such a sight, the infant in their belly will be marked. You've heard of the tales of Beauty and the Beast no doubt. How a fair maid falls in love with a monster and sees the beauty of his soul beneath the hideous visage. But you've never heard the tale of the handsome man falling for the monstrous woman and finding joy in her love, because it doesn't happen, not even in fairytales. The truth is that the scarred woman's husband buys her a good thick veil and ~ Karen Maitland

For their own good, vegetarians should never be allowed near fine beers and ales. It will only make them loud and belligerent, and they lack the physical strength and aggressive nature to back up any drunken assertions. ~ Anthony Bourdain

I would give all of my fame for a pot of ale and safety. ~ William Shakespeare

The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale. ~ A.E. Housman

I am very sorry to know and hear how unreverently that most precious jewel, the Word of God, is disputed, rhymed, sung and jangled in every ale-house and tavern, contrary to the true meaning and doctrine of the same. ~ King Edward VIII

Chaler, who had finished his ale, left the cup where it was, making no effort to procure more, indicating that he was capable of what the natural philosopher calls "learning behaviour," which turn of phrase pleases us so much that we cannot resist making use of it. ~ Steven Brust

I was married to a woman until a year ago, I wasn't out for that reason, too." He reminds me he has only recently 'come out'. "It still feels strange to think of myself as a gay man. Told you I'm quite pathetic." Now, I feel like crap for laughing at him. "You're not pathetic, Ali." He smiles again. Gorgeous. "I like you too." The truth is I like Ali a lot. But I am afraid to admit it. The ale is pretty smooth, and I become more relaxed around Ali as we settle into our evening. I have not felt like this with anyone for a long time ~ A. Zukowski

Loaves of fig and pepper bread, of course. But there was also lasagna cooked in miniature pumpkins, and pumpkin-seed brittle. Roasted red pepper soup, and spiced caramel potato cakes. Corn muffins and brown sugar popcorn balls and a dozen cupcakes, each with a different frosting, because what was first frost without frosting? Pear beer and clove ginger ale in dark bottles sat in the icy beverage tub. They ate well into the afternoon, and the more they ate, the more food there seemed to be. Pretzel buns and cranberry cheese and walnuts appearing, just when they thought they'd tasted everything. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

"What is your best, your very best, ale a glass?" "Two pence halfpenny," says the landlord, "is the price of the Genuine Stunning Ale." "Then," says I, producing the money, "just draw me a glass of the Genuine Stunning, if you please, with a good head on it." ~ Charles Dickens

It will relax her, make her pliable. Women love having their feet rubbed."
"Most women beg me to rub somewhere other than their feet."
"They like their toes nibbled," Aiden said. "And suckled."
"Rub feet, suckle toes. Got it."
"Do it slowly, the strokes steady. Then move up her legs. Use her muscles as a guide. Not hard strokes - you want to soothe, not press."
"How long before I can massage her pussy?"
"Gods, level threes are impatient. The trick is to go slowly. By the time you've reached her ass, she's sighing with pleasure, but you don't stop there. You do her entire back and arms while she's longing for you to get to her pussy. Make her wait."
"Now that I can get into. Holding back, making her beg."
He saw Nella again, squirming on the sheets, her red hair tangled on the pillow, her hips lifting toward him. Please, Rio, she'd say.
Not yet, baby, he'd respond. I want you good and wet before I get there.
She'd whimper with disappointment, then he'd lift his strap and smack her sweet little backside.
Rio sighed and made the image dissolve. "Massage. Slowly. I'm not sure my programming will let me."
"Like this." Aiden moved his ale glass and pressed his hand to the table, thumb and last two fingers on the surface, the other two fingers held loosely. "Glide across her skin, pressing a little. Long strokes, following the curve of her leg." He moved his hand across the table, slowly and sensually, his ow ~ Allyson James

He was her father after all. True, a father whose funeral rite she planned to dance at and toast with ale, but her father just the same. ~ G.A. Aiken

Looking down at the stiff, cream-colored rice paper--the good kind that came in the books that we had never been able to afford--I was both excited and apprehensive. Remembering my rather precipitous departure from that wood gatherer's house, I decided that much as I valued my friends, I wanted to read Bran's letter alone.
No one followed me as I walked out. Behind, I heard Oria saying, in a voice very different from what I was used to hearing from her, "Come, Master Jerrol, there's some good ale here, and I'll make you some bread and cheese…"
As I walked up to my room, I reflected on the fact that I did want to read it alone, and not have whatever it said read from my face. Then there was the fact that they all let me go off alone without a word said, though I knew they wanted to know what was in it.
It's that invisible barrier again, I thought, feeling peculiar. We can work all day at the same tasks, bathe together at the village bathhouse, and sit down together at meals, but then something comes up and suddenly I'm the Astiar and they are the vassals…just as at the village dances all the best posies and the finest plates are brought to me, but the young men all talk and laugh with the other girls.
Was this, then, to be my life? To always feel suspended midway between the aristocrat and the vassal traditions, and to belong truly to neither? ~ Sherwood Smith

Some brewers of Ale and Beere doe put it into their drinke to make it more heady, fit to please drunkards, who thereby, according to their several dispositions, become either dead drunke, or foolish drunke, or madde drunke. ~ Matthias De L'Obel

Last summer had meant lots of Sam Adams Summer Ale by herself on hot weekend days when it seemed like just her and the Dominican Day parade. ~ Stephanie Clifford

I consider my selfbeing ... that taste of myself, of I and me above and in all things, which is more distinctive than the taste of ale or alum, more distinctive than the smell of walnutleaf or camphor, and is incommunicable by any means to another man. ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins

If you want to feel like ginger ale Claire, drink a ginger ale. ~ Ann Hood

Better beans and bacon in peace than cakes and ale in fear. ~ Aesop

Dodger grabbed the tiny coin. "Can read "beer", "gin" and "ale". No sense in filling your head with stuff you don't need, that's what I always say. ~ Terry Pratchett

Smoked sausage and a jolly tupping. Ale and folly. Fickle bosoms and bar fights. That is the sum of experiences my souls gathered from their lives. Why do I attract all the unsophisticated fancy men? For once could one love the opera and his mother?
- Lucinda Myer, b. 1702-d. 1808 ~ Amber Kizer

Horace, hands on hips, paced around the circle, frowning as he studied them. They were a scruffy bunch, he thought, and none too clean. Their hair and beards were overlong and often gathered in rough and greasy plaits, like Nils's. There were scars and broken noses and cauliflower ears in abundance, as well as the widest assortment of rough tattoos, most of which looked as if they had been carved into the skin with the point of a dagger, after which dye was rubbed into the cut. There were grinning skulls, snakes, wolf heads and strange northern runes. All of the men were burly and thickset. Most had bellies on them that suggested they might be overfond of ale. All in all they were as untidy, rank smelling and rough tongued a bunch of pirates as one could be unlucky enough to run into. Horace turned to Will and his frown faded. 'They're beautiful,' he said. ~ John Flanagan

Tea had come as a deliverer to a land that called for deliverance; a land of beef and ale, of heavy eating and abundant drunkenness; of gray skies and harsh winds; of strong-nerved, stout-purposed, slow-thinking men and women. Above all, a land of sheltered homes and warm firesides - firesides that were waiting - waiting for the bubbling kettle and the fragrant breath of tea. ~ Agnes Repplier

Romance Of A Youngest Daughter"

Who will wed the Dowager's youngest daughter,
The Captain? filled with ale?
He moored his expected boat to a stake in the water
And stumbled on sea-legs into the Hall for mating,
Only to be seduced by her lady-in-waiting,
Round-bosomed, and not so pale.


Or the thrifty burgher in boots and fancy vest
With considered views of marriage?
By the tidy scullery maid he was impressed
Who kept that house from depreciation and dirt,
But wife does double duty and takes no hurt,
So he rode her home in his carriage.


Never the spare young scholar antiquary
Who was their next resort;
They let him wait in the crypt of the Old Library
And found him compromised with a Saxon book,
Claiming his truelove Learning kept that nook
And promised sweet disport.


Desirée (of a mother's christening) never shall wed
Though fairest child of her womb;
"We will have revenge," her injured Ladyship said,
"Henceforth the tightest nunnery be thy bed
By the topmost stair! When the ill-bred lovers come
We'll say, She is not at home. ~ John Crowe Ransom

Lo! the poor toper whose untutored sense, Sees bliss in ale, and can with wine dispense; Whose head proud fancy never taught to steer, Beyond the muddy ecstasies of beer. ~ George Crabbe

But why have you dear English Jew whose forefathers fought to enter the country of Johnny Mill, the Stuart with a little heart, saunter in Haridwar, no pubs or fish and chips' counters here, only Ganga-Jal, -the holy ale- Quaff it for the spirit and carry it to the banks of Thames in a holy grail. ~ Aporva Kala

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

In return, Joe taught Jay more about the garden. Slowly the boy learned to tell lavender from rosemary from hyssop from sage. He learned to taste soil- a pinch between the finger and thumb slipped under the tongue, like a man testing fine tobacco- to determine its acidity. He learned how to calm a headache with crushed lavender, or a stomachache with peppermint. He learned to prepare skullcap tea and chamomile to aid sleep. He learned to plant marigolds in the potato patch to discourage parasites and to pick nettles from the top to make ale and to fork the sign against the evil eye if ever a magpie flew past. ~ Joanne Harris

Some folks of cider make a rout
And cider's well enough no doubt
When better liquors fail;
But wine, that's richer, better still,
Ev'n wine itself (deny't who will)
Must yield to nappy ale ~ John Gay

I often took the bus to her apartment, where we drank bourbon and ginger ale, listened to the music we wanted to impress each other with, which eventually turned into listening to the music we actually liked. ~ Rob Sheffield

As Anthony said to Cleopatra as he opened a crate of ale: Oh, I say, some girls are bigger than others, Some girls' mothers are bigger than other girls' mothers. ~ Steven Morrissey

But right now, at the wedding supper, a bigger problem was emerging. Every time G thought about how to break the news to her, he gulped down a cup of ale. And he thought about it a lot. Every time he looked at his new bride. And he looked at her a lot. ~ Cynthia Hand

I like a good beer. Of course, I'll drink a bad one too. Let no person thirst for lack of real ale! Thank god for long-necked bottles, the angel's remedy. ~ Tom Petty

I'm 12 years sober, so I don't have beer! When I used to drink I really liked Bass Ale! ~ Kristin Davis

I finished the ale, started to order a third one, and decided against it. I'd had enough. More than enough. Or I never would have. You take just so much from a bottle, and then you stop taking. From then on you're putting. ~ Jim Thompson

All praise and honor! I confess
That bread and ale, home-baked, home-brewed
Are wholesome and nutritious food,
But not enough for all our needs;
Poets-the best of them-are birds
Of passage; where their instinct leads
They range abroad for thoughts and words
And from all climes bring home the seeds
That germinate in flowers or weeds.
They are not fowls in barnyards born
To cackle o'er a grain of corn;
And, if you shut the horizon down
To the small limits of their town,
What do you but degrade your bard
Till he at last becomes as one
Who thinks the all-encircling sun
Rises and sets in his back yard? ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I'm sipping cranberry-and-ginger-ale punch and talking to Aunt D. about her divorce when Peter Kavinsky walks in wearing a hunter-green sweater with a button-down shirt underneath, carrying a Christmas tin. I almost choke on my punch.
Kitty spots him when I do. "You came!" she cries. She runs right into his arms, and he puts down the cookie tin and picks her up and throws her around. When he sets her down, she takes him by the hand and over to the buffet table, where I'm busying myself rearranging the cookie plate.
"Look what Peter brought," she says, pushing him forward.
He hands me the cookie tin. "Here. Fruitcake cookies my mom made."
"What are you doing here?" I whisper accusingly.
"The kid invited me." He jerks his head toward Kitty, who has conveniently run back over to the puppy. Josh is standing up now, looking over at us with a frown on his face. "We need to talk."
So now he wants to talk. Well, too late. "We don't have anything to talk about."
Peter takes me by the elbow and I try to shake him off, but he won't let go. He steers me into the kitchen. "I want you to make up an excuse to Kitty and leave," I say. "And you can take your fruitcake cookies with you."
"First tell me why you're so pissed at me."
"Because!" I burst out. "Everyone is saying how we had sex in the hot tub and I'm a slut and you don't even care!"
"I told the guys we didn't!"
"Did you? Did you tell them that all we did was kiss and that's all ~ Jenny Han

To ferment your own food is to lodge a small but eloquent protest - on behalf of the senses and the microbes - against the homogenization of flavors and food experiences now rolling like a great, undifferentiated lawn across the globe. It is also a declaration of independence from an economy that would much prefer we remain passive consumers of its standardized commodities, rather than creators of idiosyncratic products expressive of ourselves and of the places where we live, because your pale ale or sourdough bread or kimchi is going to taste nothing like mine or anyone else's. ~ Michael Pollan

Not everything is a love story. ~ Ale Meza-Santiago

If nothing worse than Ale happens to us, we are well off. ~ Charles Dickens

The Prancer stepped back and studied her for a moment. Then, with a gleam in his eye, he said, 'All unicorns know the Land. Few humans do. But no unicorn knows how to brew ale.'

'I'm glad humans have some use.'

'Only those who can brew ale. ~ Chrys Cymri

Ale, not beer, in a pewter mug was comme il faut, the only thing for a gentleman of letters, worthy of the name, to drink. ~ Guy De Maupassant

May the hair on his toes never fall out! all praise to his wine and ale! ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

She looked down at the letter she had clutched in her hand. It could wait until tomorrow.
Silently she turned and went to get something soothing to drink. Or, at the very least, some hard ale. She needed something to help her sleep because the last image she'd witnessed before turning away from the chamber would have her awake and obsessing for hours. The image of Annwyl the Bloody, known terror of the Dark Plains, lovingly running her hand down Fearghus's snout ... and Fearghus the Destroyer letting her. ~ G.A. Aiken

The silence was deafening. All around Gala, the fairgoers stood as though frozen in place, staring at the near-accident in morbid fascination. The ale merchant recovered first, jumping toward the shocked child to pull her away from under the barrel. As soon as the girl was not in danger, Gala felt her focus slipping, and the barrel fell, breaking into little bits of wood and splashing ale all over the place. ~ Dima Zales

How do magical beings celebrate?" Killian was curious to know.
"Music, food, wine, ale, dancing, frivolity, and merriment in many forms." Lugh grinned again.
"So entirely the same as in the human realm?" Killian smiled back at the god.
"Well, with a bit of magic thrown in for good measure. ~ Leigh Ann Edwards

Lambic is flat, since all carbon dioxide produced during lambic fermentation escapes from the barrel. Packaged young, lambic develops carbonation in a manner similar to a cask or bottle of real ale. Real ale is casked or bottled at the end of fermentation with just enough fermentable sugar left in solution to provide a gentle carbonation. The microorganisms responsible for lambic fermentation can consume virtually any type of sugar; therefore, the brewer never bottles young lambic. The fermentation of the remaining sugar in young lambic would produce enough carbon dioxide to shatter the bottle. ~ Jeff Sparrow

I reached for a Coca-Cola.
"Want some?" I asked.
"I do not drink caffeine," he said.
"Wow, you make me look like a bad girl; that's hard to do."
He cracked a big smile for the first time I'd seen, and a huge dimple appeared in his right cheek. A butterfly wing flapped in my stomach. I turned my attention back to the drinks, fumbling a little for a cup.
"Don't let me pressure you," I said. "I was only kidding. We don't need you all hyped up on caffeine. How about ginger ale instead?"
"Is that drink not only for upset stomachs? ~ Wendy Higgins

That's close," Francis said. "I'm using a small fish to catch a larger one and fear mine will slip the hook and join the school, swimming happily away and forgetting all about his assignment."
"Wait a minute." Trumpet swung his legs around to sit upright at the edge of the bed, spilling more ale in the process. "Are you suggesting Tom might become one of the people he was sent to investigate? That he might honestly become one of those narrow-minded Puritans?"
"Yes," Francis said. "I fear that is precisely what is happening. ~ Anna Castle

Sure, there are good things, lots, sure, blow jobs, chocolate mousse, winning streaks, the warm fire in your enemy's house, good book, hunk of cheese, flagon of ale, office raise, championship ring, the misfortunes of others, sure, good things, beyond count, queens, kings, old clocks, comfy clothes, lots, innumerable items in stock, baseball cards and bingo buttons, pot-au-feu, listen, we could go on and on like a long speech, sure it's a great world, sights to see, canyons full of canyon, corn on the cob, the eroded great pyramids, contaminated towns, eroded hillsides, deleafed trees, those whitened limbs stark and noble in the evening light, geeeez, what gobs of good things, no shit, service elevators, what would we do without, and all the inventions of man, Krazy Glue and food fights, girls wrestling amid mounds of Jell-O, drafts of dark beer, no end of blue sea, formerly full of fish, eroded hopes, eruptions of joy, because we're winning, have won, won, won what? the . . . the Title. ~ William H. Gass

You tell me exactly what happened, ye filthy wee pervert," Fraser whispered, his breath hot on Grey's face and smelling of ale. He shook Grey slightly. "Every word. Every motion. Everything." Grey got just enough breath to answer. "No," he said defiantly. "Go ahead and kill me. ~ Diana Gabaldon

When daffodils begin to peer,
With heigh! the doxy, over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. ~ William Shakespeare

Better than Medicine A glass of bitter beer or pale ale, taken with the principal meal of the day, does more good, and less harm, than any medicine the physician can prescribe. Dr Carpenter in The Scottish Review, (1750) ~ Hugh Morrison

Never refuse a cup of wine or a horn of ale," Ser Arlan had once told him, "it may be a year before you see another. ~ George R R Martin

If you live in Boston, Samuel Adams draft beer (Summer Ale) and Dunkin' Donuts are essentials of life. But I discovered to my delight that even these indulgences can be offset by persistent exercise. ~ Haruki Murakami

Save your wack rhymes, hold your female.
Pass the Old Gold, trash the ale.
Cash your food stamps, get the WIC out the mail.
Love to eat shrimps, but I never eat snail,
Eat a whole fish except for the tail.
Keep food in the fridge so it don't get stale,
And when there's nothing to eat ... I bite my nails. ~ Big Daddy Kane

O my dark Rosaleen,
Do not sigh, do not weep!
The priests are on the ocean green,
They march along the deep.
There's wine from the royal Pope,
Upon the ocean green;
And Spanish ale shall give you hope,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!

Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope,
Shall give you health, and help, and hope,
My Dark Rosaleen!

Over hills, and thro' dales,
Have I roam'd for your sake;
All yesterday I sail'd with sails
On river and on lake.
The Erne, at its highest flood,
I dash'd across unseen,
For there was lightning in my blood,
My Dark Rosaleen!

My own Rosaleen!
O, there was lightning in my blood,
Red lighten'd thro' my blood.
My Dark Rosaleen!

All day long, in unrest,
To and fro, do I move.
The very soul within my breast
Is wasted for you, love!
The heart in my bosom faints
To think of you, my Queen,
My life of life, my saint of saints,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
To hear your sweet and sad complaints,
My life, my love, my saint of saints,
My Dark Rosaleen!
Woe and pain, pain and woe,
Are my lot, night and noon,
To see your bright face clouded so,
Like to the mournful moon.
But yet will I rear your throne
Again in golden sheen;

' ~ James Clarence Mangan

Mr. Paggle lifted his own ale in the air. "What shall we toast to?"
"Yarrow's right hook?" Peer said.
"Bray's unladylike nerve?" Arlow suggested.
"To new friends," Yarrow said.
"New friends," they agreed. Their glasses clinked merrily. ~ March McCarron

Conthas burned to the ground. Apparently, this is a regular occurrence. Every few decades or so a fire goes unchecked and razes the entire city to ash. The locals think of it as a time of renewal. A chance to start over, to sweep away the old and build something new.

New taverns, for instance. New pubs, new scratch-dens; new gambling holes and fighting pits. New ale-houses, dice-houses, tap-houses, and whore-houses. From what I understand, Conthas is like some drug-addled, sex-crazed, booze-swilling phoenix that refuses to stay dead. ~ Nicholas Eames