“Plant no tree sooner than the vine.”

Tis said that wrath is the last thing in a man to grow old.

Wine is a peep-hole on a man.

One that hath wine as a chain about his wits, such a one lives no life at all.

Fighting men are the city’s fortress.

Not houses finely roofed or the stones of walls well builded, nay nor canals and dockyards make the city, but men able to use their opportunity.

Not well-built walls, but brave citizens are the bulwark of the city.

Brave men are a city’s strongest tower of defence.

To be bowed by grief is folly; Naught is gained by melancholy; Better than the pain of thinking, Is to steep the sense in drinking.

I am not bound for any public place, but for ground of my own where I have planted vines and orchard trees, and in the heat of the day climbed up into the healing shadow of the woods.

This younger generation that’s around, that’s tweeting, Facebooking and Vine-ing, the fans appreciate that because they feel like they can get to you.

To scenes by memory’s silver chain Close-linked, and ever yet apart, That like the vine, whose tendrils young Around some fostering branch have clung, Grown with its growth, as tho’ it sprung From one united heart.

Adrian Rogers told us as often as he could he took the Bible literally.

Where are the feasts we were promised? Where is the wine, the new wine, dying on the vine.

I always wanted to be a Vine star. I wasn’t, thank God.

All of the Vines that were acted & setup & had nice cameras, those weren’t the good Vines. The good Vines were, like, a random little kid in the middle of a forest, like, yelling.