A Quote by Hilaire Belloc
Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, There’s always laughter and good red wine. At least I’ve always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!
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Here's a toast to the roast that good fellowship lends, with the sparkle of beer and wine; May its sentiment always be deeper, my friends, than the foam at the top of the stein. Then here's to the heartening wassail, wherever good fellows are found; Be its master instead of its vassal, and order the glasses around.
The Catholic Church is like a thick steak, a glass of red wine, and a good cigar.
It is always easy to shine in the dark mud! Choose the difficult task: Amongst the pearls under the sun, try to shine more than them!
French wines may be said but to pickle meat in the stomach, but this is the wine that digests, and doth not only breed good blood, but it nutrifieth also, being a glutinous substantial liquor; of this wine, if of any other, may be verified that merry induction: That good wine makes good blood, good blood causeth good humors, good humors cause good thoughts, good thoughts bring forth good works, good works carry a man to heaven, ergo, good wine carrieth a man to heaven.
When I was a child, we always had wine on the table, no matter how simple the meal. The wine had no special identity; it was just 'the wine,' from the cellar cask. The rules were general: white with the first course, red with the main course.
Hmmm... cooking with wine? I usually drink wine while cooking... I do a good braised short ribs with cabernet, though. We're big red wine drinkers here. All that research showing that it's good for you takes the guilt away.
To my mind, faith is like being in the sun. When you are in the sun, can you avoid creating a shadow? Can you shake that area of darkness that clings to you, always shaped like you, as if constantly to remind you of yourself? You can’t. This shadow is doubt. And it goes wherever you go as long as you stay in the sun. And who wouldn’t want to be in the sun?
Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare, And left the flushed print in a poppy there: Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came, And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame. With burnt mouth red like a lion's it drank The blood of the sun as he slaughtered sank, And dipped its cup in the purpurate shine When the eastern conduits ran with wine.
The sun doesn't always shine in West Virginia, but the people do.
I've always loved my red wine, and when I'm not working I can open a bottle too many. I love to cook, so it's one for me and one for the casserole. I would consume a bottle of wine on my own of an evening and then literally pass out.
On the other hand, the pleasure caused by laughter, even on the stage, is not an unadulterated enjoyment; it is not a pleasure that is exclusively esthetic or altogether disinterested. It always implies a secret or unconscious intent, if not of each one of us, at all events of society as a whole. In laughter we always find an unavowed intention to humiliate, and consequently to correct our neighbour, if not in his will, at least in his deed.
The sun doesn't always shine; the wind doesn't always blow. This is why, if we want to rely on renewables, we need intelligent systems that integrate and coordinate different sources of energy at scale so that when one is scarce or unavailable, the others can automatically compensate.
Nobody draws the light for covered wine rooms from the south or west, but rather from the north, since that quarter is never subject to change but is always constant and unshifting. So it is with granaries: grain exposed to the sun's course soon loses its good quality, and provisions and fruit, unless stored in a place unexposed to the sun's course, do not keep long.
If there is nothing new under the sun, at least the sun itself is always new, always re-creating itself out of its own inexhaustible fire.
Ive always loved my red wine, and when Im not working I can open a bottle too many. I love to cook, so its one for me and one for the casserole. I would consume a bottle of wine on my own of an evening and then literally pass out.
Wine ...moderately drunken it doth quicken a man's wits, It doth comfort the heart.
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