Quote by Clifton Fadiman
To take wine into our mouths is to savor a droplet of the river of

To take wine into our mouths is to savor a droplet of the river of human history. – Clifton Fadiman

Other quotes by Clifton Fadiman

When you reread a classic you do not see more in the book than you did before; you see more in you than was there before. – Clifton Fadiman

Category:
Books
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Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, including thinking about not thinking. – Clifton Fadiman

Category:
Sleep
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When you re-read a classic you do not see in the book more than you did before. You see more in you than there was before. – Clifton Fadiman

Category:
Literature
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Other Quotes from
Wine
category

Wine makes old wives wenches. – English proverb

Category:
Wine

Fine wine is a living liquid containing no preservatives. Its life comprises youth, maturity, old age, and death. When not treated with reasonable respect it will sicken and die. – Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle, and Simone Beck, Mastering the Art of French C

Category:
Wine

For not only is taste in wine as subjective as taste in women, but its enjoyment depends more on circumstances than does that of almost any other pleasure. – Cyril Ray (1908–1991), “The Wine when it is Red,” In a Glass Lightly, 1967

Category:
Wine

Its a na?ve domestic Burgundy without any breeding, but I think youll be amused by its presumption. – James Thurber

Category:
Wine

Random Quotes

Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart. – Anne Frank

Category:
good

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. But a book is never just a book. – The Old Sage Bookshop in Prescott, Arizona

Category:
Books

Every summer my husband and I pack our suitcases, load our kids into the car, and drive from tense, crowded New York City to my familys cottage in Maine. Its on an island, with stretches of sea and sandy beaches, rocky coasts, and pine trees. We barbecue, swim, lie around, and try to do nothing. – Hope Davis

Category:
car

O rose, who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet,
But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubblewheat,–
Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee. – Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Category:
Remembrance