Quotes & Sayings About Port Wine

No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port for men: but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy. In the first place brandy will do soonest for a man what drinking can do for him. — James Boswell

I used to wonder if a mother could see the shift when her child became an adult. I wondered if it was clinical, like at the onset of puberty; or emotional, like the first time his heart was broken; or temporal, like the moment he said I do. I used to wonder if maybe it was a critical mass of life experiences - graduation, first job, first baby - that tipped the balance; if it was the sort of thing you noticed immediately when you saw it, like a port-wine stain of sudden gravitas, or if it crept up slowly, like age in a mirror. Now I know: adulthood is a line drawn in the sand. At some point, your child will be standing on the other side. I — Jodi Picoult

Silver and ermine and red faces full of port wine. — John Betjeman

He was rather a low sort of pony. The fact is, he had been originally jobbed out by the day, and he never quite got over his old habits. He was clever in melodrama too, but too broad
too broad. When the mother died, he took the port-wine business.'
'The port-wine business!' cried Nicholas.
'Drinking port-wine with the clown,' said the manager; 'but he was greedy, and one night bit off the bowl of the glass, and choked himself, so his vulgarity was the death of him at last. — Charles Dickens

There are houses whose souls have passed into the limbo of Time, leaving their bodies in the limbo of London. Such was not quite the condition of "Timothy's" on the Bayswater Road, for Timothy's soul still had one foot in Timothy Forsyte's body, and Smither kept the atmosphere unchanging, of camphor and port wine and house whose windows are only opened to air it twice a day. — John Galsworthy

People search for joy everywhere not knowing that the Self is the source of all joy — Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

God save him, she smelled of a field of roses and tasted sweeter than port wine.
Drawing her hands over her mouth Charlotte gasped. "Hugh. How did we end up on the bed?"
"I think we must have floated," he whispered. — Amy Jarecki

What is human is to make a difference to the world, to act on it, to interact with others, and, together, to transform the environment and themselves. If this process is prevented, we become less than human; we are harmed. — Mark M. Lanier

I want to change my life ... except I sort of like it. I mean, I couldn't be more delighted every Monday night after Fletch goes to bed when I come downstairs, pull up the Bachelor on TiVo, drink Riesling, and eat cheddar/port wine Kaukauna cheese without freakign out over fat grams. I'm perpetually in a good mood because I do everything I want. I love having the freedom to skip the gym to watch a Don Knots movie on the Disney Channel without a twinge of guilt. I've figured out how to not be beholden to what other people believe I should be doing, and when the world tells me I ought to be a size eight, I can thumb my nose at them in complete empowerment. — Jen Lancaster

Freedom is the right to one's dignity as a man. — Archibald MacLeish

Heaven is dancing
Dancing and laughing,
Ocean and land
Are dancing along,
Undulating to the breath of the sky. — Ilchi Lee

If your child is born with a port-wine stain, they should be seen immediately by a pediatric dermatologist. Your pediatrician does not understand these birthmarks as well as a specialist. — Hannah Storm

Pure herring oil is the port wine of English cats — Honore De Balzac

People are afraid of failure - they don't like to work so hard and have people keep saying, 'No.' I think that's what people fear most. — Russell Simmons

People can be anonymous when they go on blogs and say crazy things that they would never have the courage to say to your face. — John Leguizamo

He was California from the tips of his port wine loafers to the buttoned and tieless brown and yellow checked shirt inside his rough cream sports jacket. — Raymond Chandler

Slade blinked at them, and it actually took him a moment to retrace his steps and figure out what the hell had happened in the moron's pea brain to create such a catastrophic /fail. Realizing the inebriates probably had no idea what a palanquin was - and that they had heard the 'port' part of porter and thought he meant a sweet red wine, Slade almost walked over, took Tyson's gun, and blew off his own head rather than spend one more minute surrounded by such painfully clear dumbassery. — Sara King

There is something infantile in the presumption that somebody else has a responsibility to give your life meaning and point ... The truly adult view, by contrast, is that our life is as meaningful, as full and as wonderful as we choose to make it. — R. Dawkins

For if there was any kindness in slavery it was dependent on the docility of the slaves; any slave who was unwilling to be a slave broke through the myth of paternalism and benevolence, and brought down on himself the violence inherent in the system. A — Wendell Berry

What I 'd like first is someone to raise them with, someone who will look at me and say, 'that one. I want that one.' You know what I mean? I want someone who will know right away that he wants to be with me and raise kids with me and just ... love me. — Giselle Ellis

Nanny Ogg appreciated fine wine in her very own way. It would never have occurred to Casanunda that anyone would top up white wine with port merely because she'd reached the end of the bottle. — Terry Pratchett

Hirsute? What does that mean?'
'Hair, you ninny, hair! — Carl Sargent

I have often thought that the aim of port is to give you a good and durable hangover, so that during the next day you should be reminded of the splendid occasion the night before. — George Mikes

Port is not for the very young, the vain and the active. It is the comfort of age and the companion of the scholar and the philosopher — Evelyn Waugh

This is where I live.
- I wonder if you still love me? — Marina Tsvetaeva

Maggie sipped her drink with the cat draped across her lap and the dog curled at her feet. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and Dan Sean's shallow snores. There were no CD's to play, no radio, no television. There was nothing. She was just sitting there in silence, getting drunk. It occurred to her that a person's first drunken experience shoud be in the basement of a friend's house, in a forest preserve, behind the bleachers of a football field. Certainly not in the company of a sleeping ninety-nine-year-old man. She giggled a little and wondered what Uncle Kevin would make of it. "Hot port?" he would say. "Very impressive, Mags. I would have thought you'd be more of a wine cooler type of girl. — Jessie Ann Foley

Frustration is the by-product of attempting to fulfill responsibilities God does not intend for us to carry. Freedom, joy, and fruitfulness come from seeking to determine God's priorities for each season of life, and then setting out to fulfill those priorities, in the power of His Spirit, realizing that He has provided the necessary time and abilities to do everything that He has called us to do. — Nancy Leigh DeMoss

He sang the brightness of mornings and green rivers,
He sang of smoking water in the rose-colored daybreaks,
Of colors: cinnabar, carmine, burnt sienna, blue,
Of the delight of swimming in the sea under marble cliffs,
Of feasting on a terrace above the tumult of a fishing port,
Of tastes of wine, olive oil, almonds, mustard, salt.
Of the flight of the swallow, the falcon,
Of a dignified flock of pelicans above the bay,
Of the scent of an armful of lilacs in summer rain,
Of his having composed his words always against death
And of having made no rhyme in praise of nothingness. — Czeslaw Milosz

A letter from Jonathon Binns, a medical expert, written in 1772, advised the mother of a baby to "give him a little red or white wine every day. He may at different times take about one glass; but be very cautious of it if his eyes be somewhat sore and inflamed. Red port is preferable to white, provided he is sufficiently open in his belly."3 — Janet Gleeson

His instincts told him he should stay the hell away from her. That he was on a road paved to hell, but he couldn't stay away. He'd watched her every night for a month, played a silent game with her of pretending the other didn't exist, and it never worked. He wanted to know the secret behind her eyes. He wanted to know why she carried a gun at night, ordered a glass of Johnny Walker Blue she never drank, and why she carried so much pain inside. — Nina D'Angelo

Marrying. Oh, God. Buoyed temporarily by port wine and cream lace, I had momentarily managed to ignore the significance of the occasion. — Diana Gabaldon

I love singing and performing. I'm always singing. Even if I'm at school or in the car, I'm always singing. My mom said ever since I could talk, I was singing. — Caitlin Hale

Like a dingy London bird among the birds at roost in these pleasant fields, where the sheep are all made into parchment, the goats into wigs, and the pasture into chaff, the lawyer, smoke-dried and faded, dwelling among mankind but not consorting with them, aged without experience of genial youth, and so long used to make his cramped nest in holes and corners of human nature that he has forgotten its broader and better range, comes sauntering home. In the oven made by the hot pavements and hot buildings, he has baked himself dryer than usual; and he has in his thirsty mind his mellowed port-wine half a century old. — Charles Dickens

As I followed the chief waiter with my eyes, I could not help thinking that the garden in which he had gradually blown to be the flower he was, was an arduous place to rise in. It had such a prescriptive, stiff-necked, long-established, solemn, elderly air. I glanced about the room, which had had its sanded floor sanded, no doubt, in exactly the same manner when the chief waiter was a boy - if he ever was a boy, which appeared improbable; and at the shining tables, where I saw myself reflected, in unruffled depths of old mahogany; and at the lamps, without a flaw in their trimming or cleaning; and at the comfortable green curtains, with their pure brass rods, snugly enclosing the boxes; and at the two large coal fires, brightly burning; and at the rows of decanters, burly as if with the consciousness of pipes of expensive old port wine below; and both England and the law appeared to me to be very difficult indeed to be taken by storm. — Charles Dickens

Somewhere en route to Port Via in the New Hebrides, for my last meal I serve dinner the way I've always dreamed.
Anybody caught buttering their bread before breaking it, I promise to shoot them.
Anybody who drinks their beverage with food still in their mouth will also be shot.
Anybody caught spooning toward themself will be shot.
Anybody caught without a napkin in their lap-
Anybody caught using their fingers to move their food-
Anybody who begins eating before everybody is seved-
Anybody who blows on food to cool it-
Anybody who talks with food in their mouth-
Anybody who drinks white wine holding their glass by the bowl or drinks red wine holding their glass by the stem-
You will each of you get a bullet in the head.
We are 30,000 feet above earth, going 455 miles per hour. We're at a pinnacle of human achievement, we are going to eat this meal as civilized human beings. — Chuck Palahniuk

Truly,' I answered him, 'all things are good and fair, because all is truth. Look,' said I, 'at the horse, that great beast that is so near to man; or the lowly, pensive ox, which feeds him and works for him; look at their faces, what meekness, what devotion to man, who often beats them mercilessly. What gentleness, what confidence and what beauty! It's touching to know that there's no sin in them, for all, all except man, is sinless, and Christ has been with them before us. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Leta was stained. It wasn't something she could hide - even though she had tried. Long gloves, bell sleeves, anything to hide the taint. But this season the fashion was dainty wrists peeking out of whitest lace. She was not dainty. She would never be dainty. And the port wine stain spread from her fingertips to her elbow, covering her entire left hand and arm. She couldn't keep it out of sight. — Nia Wilde