When asked what wines he liked to drink he replied, "That which
belongs to another."
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When asked what wines he liked to drink he replied, "That which
belongs to another."
- Laertius Diogenes,

Ten thousand casks,
Forever dribbling out their base contents,
Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state,
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Ten thousand casks,
Forever dribbling out their base contents,
Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state,
Bleed gold for ministers to sport away.
Drink, and be mad then; 'tis your country bids!

Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whoever is
deceived thereby is not wise.

Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whoever is
deceived thereby is not wise.

Firm and erect the Caledonian stood;
Sound was his mutton, and his claret good;
"Let him drink read more

Firm and erect the Caledonian stood;
Sound was his mutton, and his claret good;
"Let him drink port!" the English statesman cried:
He drank the poison, and his spirit died.

Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's
sake and thine often infirmities.

Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's
sake and thine often infirmities.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
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John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise,
Twill make a man forget his wo;
'Twill heighten all his joy.

Bring me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on read more

Bring me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through
Under the Andes to the Cape,
Suffered no savor of the earth to escape.

Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please, the more because they preach in vain,--
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Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please, the more because they preach in vain,--
Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.

Sing! Who sings
To her who weareth a hundred rings?
Ah, who is this lady fine?
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Sing! Who sings
To her who weareth a hundred rings?
Ah, who is this lady fine?
The Vine, boys, the Vine!
The mother of the mighty Wine,
A roamer is she
O'er wall and tree
And sometimes very good company.