Wine Is A Civilizing Agent.

To Divide One's Life By Years Is Of Course To Tumble Into A Trap Set By Our Own Arithmetic. The Calendar Consents To Carry On Its Dull Wall-existence By The Arbitrary Timetables We Have Drawn Up In Consultation With Those Permanent Commuters, Earth And Sun. But We, Unlike Trees, Need Grow No Annual Rings.

The Man Who Attracts Luck Carries With Him The Magnet Of Preparation.

My Main Recollection Is Of The Work I Had To Do In Order To Eat

The Drinking Of Wine Seems To Me To Have A Moral Edge Over Many Pleasures And Hobbies In That It Promotes Love Of One's Neighbor.

Wine Is Poetry In A Bottle.