A Quote by Bob Dylan

Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth. 
 None of them along the line know what any of it is worth. — © Bob Dylan
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth. None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.
When I was on the Knicks, and I'd have a drink - my drink would be either a Manhattan or an Old Fashioned - businessmen would be drinking only wine. As I continued to go to business dinners with successful businessmen, my drink has now also turned into wine.
I can't go along with all that shit about having to give everything up. I'd always say to them in the clinic I'm still going to have a Guinness, I'm still going to have a glass of wine. They say you can smoke 400 cigs a day and drink 20 cups of coffee, but you can't have a line or a drink again.
Customers should complain more. You know, food's expensive nowadays. And these sommeliers come along with their thousand-page wine list and practically throw it in your lap. They're all businessmen and know that customers get intimidated and buy something overpriced. I say, always put them on the spot. 'You come back to me with a red wine at $30, $40. Come back to me with a choice.'
Businessmen they drink my wine, come and taste my herb.
I drink a glass of wine or two occasionally with dinner. 'You drink alcohol?!' Well, if my state of consciousness is so fragile that a glass of wine would upset it, then it can't be worth very much.
Here is a tip for all you young people drinking wine. With pasta, drink white wine. With steak, drink red wine. And if you're vegan, you're annoying.
Within the bottle's depths, the wine's soul sang one night. Drink wine, drink poetry, drink virtue.
Don't you hate people who drink white wine? I mean, my dear, every alcoholic in town is getting falling-down drunk on white wine. They think they aren't drunks because they only drink wine. Never, never trust anyone who asks for white wine. It means they're phonies.
The man who wants a garden fair, or small or very big, With flowers growing here and there, Must bend his back and dig. The things are mighty few on earth That wishes can attain. Whate'er we want of any worth We've got to work to gain. It matters not what goal you seek, It's secret here reposes: You've got to dig from week to week To get Results or Roses.
Milton says, that the lyric poet may drink wine and live generously, but the epic poet, he who shall sing of the gods, and their descent unto men, must drink water out of a wooden bowl. For poetry is not "Devil's wine," but God's wine.
Wine is the drink of the gods, milk the drink of babes, tea the drink of women, and water the drink of beasts.
Bottles of wine aren't like paintings. At some point you have to consume them. The object in life is to die with no bottles of wine in your cellar. To drink your last bottle of wine and go to sleep that night and not wake up.
You can't rush good wine. It has to sit. And when you finally drink it, it's the bomb. It's worth the wait.
the Egyptians became fond of wine and bibulous; and so a way was found among them to help those who could not afford wine, namely, to drink that made from barley; they who took it were so elated that they sang, danced, and acted in every way like persons filled with wine.
Day-colored wine, night-colored wine, wine with purple feet or wine with topaz blood, wine, starry child of earth.
His element is so fine Being sharpened by his death, To drink from the wine-breath While our gross palates drink from the whole wine.
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