Fulbrook Ale Quotes

We each took a cup as we passed and drank the sweet chilled beverage- it was refreshing and tasted like ginger ale with a swirl of summer peaches. Then Peaseblossom waved us through the open door.
"Wow," said Henry.
We stepped into an enchanted culinary forest. The walls had been painted to look like a thicket of trees, and the ceiling resembled the summer sky in the woods, complete with overhanging branches. There were topiaries and baskets overflowing with wildflowers. The tables were grouped to one side, still draped in their shimmering coverings. Dreamy music floated through the air, and piney, herby scents wafted on gentle currents. Butterflies flitted around and landed on people's heads and shoulders. And everywhere we looked, there were trays of baked goods- most of them, I realized, straight from the pages of Puffy Fay's cookbook. The pastry case and the counter near it were hidden behind curtains that looked like a wall of evergreens. ~ Rajani LaRocca

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

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

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

In my village, one of our priests says that love between men is a great sin- the other argues that nothing at all is sinful except weak ale, overdone meat, and building a fire in any way but his. ~ Peter S. Beagle

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

Food in a castle was served in the great hall, a large room usually on an upper floor. The lord's table was set up along one wall on a small dais, the rest of the tables were positioned in a perpendicular fashion to the lord's dais. Lower tables were called trestle tables, and when the meals were not being eaten, these tables were taken down and stacked in designated areas. The lord, his guests and family who all sat at the lord's table were the only ones to have chairs; everyone else sat on a bench. Breakfast was a small snack usually served after morning mass. It consisted of a hunk of bread and ale or cider for the retainers and servants. The lord, his family and guests might be served white bread with a ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

There are a thousand small honest breweries in this country that because they have been too poor and localized to compete with the big boys have been forced to close, or else operate under famous names while they turn out yeast, or hops, or some other important but unnamed ingredient of the main company's beer. Now, with the trains full of soldiers and supplies rather than pale ale, perhaps people far from the great breweries will turn again to their local beer factories and discover, as their fathers did thirty years ago, that a beer carried quietly three miles is better than one shot across three thousand on a fast freight. ~ Mary Francis Kennedy Fisher

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

AS I PLAN MY QUEST," Quichotte said, drinking from a can of ginger ale, "I ponder the contemporary period as well as the classical. And by the contemporary I mean, of course, The Bachelorette. ~ Salman Rushdie

A kiss.
One-point-three seconds--and gone.
He touched his metal mouth even though he could not feel--neither physical touch nor emotional. Ana had never kissed him on the mouth before. One the cheek, yes, when she'd drunk too much of Wick's Cercian ale. But never on the mouth. Her words echoed through his processors like a virus.
I'll always come back for you. I promise on iron and stars.
It was more than a promise--it was an oath. Unbreakable. Strong like iron and steady like stars.
It was said that such promises could never be broken; the Goddess would not allow it. The probability of a supernatural binding was less than one percent, but the vow stuck with him all the same.
Because Ana had never promised on iron and stars before. ~ Ashley Poston

It was quiet; so quiet. Didn't these people know how to grieve for a good man? Didn't they know how to weep, and scream with rage, and curse the powers of darkness in their sorrow? Didn't they know how to hold one another, and dry one another's tears, and tell tales of the things he had done, and of what he had been, to see him safe on his way? Where were the great fires, and the toasts in strong ale, and the scent of burning juniper? ~ Juliet Marillier

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

Last time I was sick, the guy I was seeing brought me a bottle of ginger ale… and expected me to pay him back for it. ~Jaime Vegas ~ Kelley Armstrong

I should like a great lake of ale, for the King of Kings. I should like the family of heaven to be drinking it through time eternal. ~ Brigit Of Kildare

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

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

I have fed purely upon ale; I have eat my ale, drank my ale, and I always sleep upon ale. ~ George Farquhar

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

Bartender! Vring me some viskey with chincher ale on de side & don't be stingy, baby. (Garbo's first words in a talking picture) ~ Greta Garbo

Piracy, Hollywood Style: An Ode to Errol Flynn
His galleon emblazoned and beckoned to the coral's black mire,
And ol' wispy eyed Errol, the pirate, stiffened his lip:
Her Majesty's Rogue Navy may have set ol' Bessie afire -
But I'd be a fool to go down and drown with me ship!"

"Fer, a pirate I am, and A pirate I'll be,
I don't need to die 'proper' with false dignity -
All I need is a new ship, and a flagon of ale.
The latter to drown in, the former to sail!

"Aye! Give me a strong wind, and twenty good men,
And I'll take to the high seas, and pirate again!
And should I be lucky to spot a Royal ship in me scope -
I'll hang her good captain from ten yards of rope!

"Aye! And when her cowardly crew gives me their lip,
I'll give them the 'dignity' to go down with their ship!
Aye! Give me a strong wind and twenty good men,
And I'll take to the high seas, and pirate again! ~ Beryl Dov

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

Past the flannel plains and blacktop graphs and skylines of canted rust, and past the tobacco-brown river overhung with weeping trees and coins of sunlight through them on the water downriver, to the place beyond the windbreak, where untilled fields simmer shrilly in the A.M. heat: shattercane, lamb's-quarter, cutgrass, sawbrier, nutgrass, jimsonweed, wild mint, dandelion, foxtail, muscadine, spinecabbage, goldenrod, creeping charlie, butter-print, nightshade, ragweed, wild oat, vetch, butcher grass, invaginate volunteer beans, all heads gently nodding in a morning breeze like a mother's soft hand on your cheek. An arrow of starlings fired from the windbreak's thatch. The glitter of dew that stays where it is and steams all day. A sunflower, four more, one bowed, and horses in the distance standing rigid and still as toys. All nodding. Electric sounds of insects at their business. Ale-colored sunshine and pale sky and whorls of cirrus so high they cast no shadow. Insects all business all the time. Quartz and chert and schist and chondrite iron scabs in granite. Very old land. Look around you. The horizon trembling, shapeless. We are all of us brothers.

Some crows come overhead then, three or four, not a murder, on the wing, silent with intent, corn-bound for the pasture's wire beyond which one horse smells at the other's behind, the lead horse's tail obligingly lifted. Your shoes' brand incised in the dew. An alfalfa breeze. Socks' burrs. Dry scratching inside a cu ~ David Foster Wallace

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

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

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

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

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

when a man's said what he means, he'd better stop, for th' ale 'ull be none the better for stannin'. An ~ George Eliot

The beer aisle would have made Carrie Nation weep. Sven had already warned me that Oregon leads the country in breweries, all of them trying to outdo each other in crafting the hoppiest pale ales, meatiest stouts, darkest porters, fruitiest wheat beers and snootiest lagers. I was hoping to score a case of Budweiser or Miller Genuine Draft, but I was out of luck; apparently I'd be forced to consume craft beer until I finished my assignment and escaped the rain-drenched state. I grabbed a few six packs of something called Beavertail Pale Ale. At least it came in cans. The cereal ~ David Manuel

Happy the Man, who void of Cares and Strife,
In Silken, or in Leathern Purse retains
A Splendid Shilling: He nor hears with Pain
New Oysters cry'd, nor sighs for chearful Ale ~ John Phillips

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? ~ William Shakespeare