Wine lovers all speak of their First Time, a quasi-spiritual moment of awakening to wine's wonderment. After that, it's a life sentence. I've seen it happen to even the most confirmed beer sluggers.

If Dracula would be happy there, so will your wine.

Wine is for sharing. What's the fun of swirling, swishing, sloshing and yakking if my friends can't join in?

Beer is prose. Wine is poetry.

I am yours but you are free of mine.My love is yours but I don't want any return

When we are true to ourselves, all that is toxic and burdensome simply falls away

Biology doesn't make anyone a parent, " Cassia added as she tucked her Eturian prayer stone beneath her shirt.

The road to love is full of danger signs.

When I died last, and, Dear, I die As often as from thee I go Though it be but an hour ago, And lovers' hours be full eternity.

Further march of civilization seems to employ increasing domination of man over beast, together with a growingly humane method of using them.

It is ironic that people of modest means sometimes become conservative out of a scarcity fear bred by the very capitalist system they support.

It makes me so much calmer when I’m responding to e-mails later.

The world we live in is the world we choose to live in, whether consciously or unconsciously. If we choose bliss, that's what we get. If we choose misery, we get that, too.