A Quote by Mark Twain

Good wine needs no bush; a jug is the thing. — © Mark Twain
Good wine needs no bush; a jug is the thing.
Good wine needs neither bush nor preface to make it welcome. And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd.
Good wine needs no bush.
If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue.
Speaking psycho-analytically, it may be laid down that any "great ideal" which people mention with awe is really an excuse for inflicting pain on their enemies. Good wine needs no bush, and good morals need no bated breath.
'Good wine needs no bush', and if there were need to urge the reading of history it would be proof that history is too dull and unattractive to be read.
Good wine needs no bush, And perhaps products that people really want Need no hard-sell or soft-sell TV push. Why not? Look at pot.
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing- Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay- Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet- Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Spring, the sweet Spring!
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
I thought I knew how to jug, but when you only jug 30 meters to the top of a sport climb, you don't need good technique. But jugging 400 meters, that's a big deal.
I like all paintings. I always look at the paintings, good or bad, in barbershops, furniture stores, provincial hotels. I'm like a drinker who needs wine. As long as it is wine, it doesn't matter which wine.
A book of verses underneath the bough, A jug of wine, a loaf of bread-and thou.
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing. Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
One of the most insidious myths in American wine culture is that a wine is good if you like it. Liking a wine has nothing to do with whether it is good. Liking a wine has to do with liking that wine, period. Wine requires two assessments: one subjective, the other objective. In this it is like literature. You may not like reading Shakespeare but agree that Shakespeare was a great writer nonetheless.
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.
I would like a wine. The purpose of the wine is to get me drunk. A bad wine will get me as drunk as a good wine. I would like the good wine. And since the result is the same no matter which wine I drink, I'd like to pay the bad wine price.
We check everything to make sure it is pure and of the highest quality. There is good wine and bad wine; we buy only the good wine.
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