#wine

How simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. . . . All that is required to feel that here and now is happiness is a simple, frugal heart. ↗

— Nikos Kazantzakis

#wine

Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, sermons and soda water the day after. ↗

— George Gordon Byron

#wine #women #wine

Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually. Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken. And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, or whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock, will answer you: 'It is the hour to be drunken! Be drunken, if you would not be martyred slaves of Time; be drunken continually! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. ↗

— Eugene O'Neill

#wine

A sip of wine, a cigarette, And then it’s time to go. I tidied up the kitchenette; I tuned the old banjo. I’m wanted at the traffic-jam. They’re saving me a seat. ↗

— Leonard Cohen

#wine

How very like you, Puck.” Ash’s voice came from a great distance, and the room started to spin. “Offer them a taste of faery wine, and act surprised when they’re consumed by it.” That struck me as hilarious, and I broke into hysterical giggles. And once I began, I couldn’t stop. I laughed until I was gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face. My feet itched and my skin crawled. I needed to move, to do something. I tried standing up, wanting to spin and dance, but the room tilted violently and I fell, still shrieking with laughter. Somebody caught me, scooping me off my feet and into their arms. I smelled frost and winter, and heard an exasperated sigh from somewhere above my head. “What are you doing, Ash?” I heard someone ask. A familiar voice, though I couldn’t think of his name, or why he sounded so suspicious. “I’m taking her back to her room.” The person above me sounded wonderfully calm and deep. I sighed and settled into his arms. “She’ll have to sleep off the effects of the fruit. We’ll likely be here another day because of your idiocy.” The other voice said something garbled and unintelligible. I was suddenly too sleepy and light-headed to care. Relaxing against the mysterious person’s chest, I fell into a heady sleep. ↗

— Julie Kagawa

#drunk #meghan #puck #wine #mystery

It's not sipping wine. It's a mourning wine. You drain it. Like this. ↗

— Neil Gaiman

#wine #mourning

The priority of any addict is to anaesthetise the pain of living to ease the passage of day with some purchased relief. ↗

— Russell Brand

#amy-winehouse #blog #addiction

And yes I have all of the usual objections to the miseducation Of children who in tax-exempt institutions are taught to externalise blame And to feel ashamed and to judge things as plain right or wrong ↗

— Tim Minchin

#white-wine-in-the-sun #song-lyrics

Always carry a corkscrew and the wine shall provide itself. ↗

— Basil Bunting

#carry #corkscrew #itself #provide #shall

I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine. ↗

— William Shakespeare

#wine #love