Every December, I host a tree-trimming party. I serve chili with cornbread and lots of good wine. It’s a wonderful party, and it shows how much adults like to play.

One of the disadvantages of wine is that it makes a man mistake words for thoughts.

When you’re around kids you can be a little kid yourself and pretend that life is magic and you don’t have to be one of those sweaty people going to work every day.

In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play.

And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Language is wine upon the lips.

We are born at a given moment, in a given place and, like vintage years of wine, we have the qualities of the year and of the season of which we are born. Astrology does not lay claim to anything more.

The best comfort food will always be greens, cornbread, and fried chicken.

Hide our ignorance as we will, an evening of wine soon reveals it.

Too much and too little wine. Give him none, he cannot find truth; give him too much, the same.

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Let’s put it this way: there wouldn’t be much point in me attending a high-school reunion now because there wouldn’t be anybody there. We’d struggle to raise a quorum.

We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.

Wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves to see us happy.

Man is most nearly himself when he achieves the seriousness of a child at play.

That I be not as those are who spend the day in complaining of headache and the night in drinking the wine which gives the headache!

The wine of youth does not always clear with advancing years; sometimes it grows turbid.

I have fun with ideas; I play with them.

Fan the sinking flame of hilarity with the wing of friendship; and pass the rosy wine.

Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken.

What I like to drink most is wine that belongs to others.

Beauty is worse than wine, it intoxicates both the holder and beholder.

The child in you, like all children, loves to laugh, to be around people who can laugh at themselves and life. Children instinctively know that the more laughter we have in our lives, the better.

Wine makes a man more pleased with himself; I do not say it makes him more pleasing to others.

My books are like water; those of the great geniuses are wine. (Fortunately) everybody drinks water.

O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.

To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain, and play with it!

Wine gives a man nothing… it only puts in motion what had been locked up in frost.

Independence is a heady draught, and if you drink it in your youth, it can have the same effect on the brain as young wine does. It does not matter that its taste is not always appealing. It is addictive and with each drink you want more.

Under the pressure of the cares and sorrows of our mortal condition, men have at all times, and in all countries, called in some physical aid to their moral consolations – wine, beer, opium, brandy, or tobacco.