Everything is here for a purpose, from horses to vine shoots. What's surprising about that? Even the sun will tell you, "I have a purpose," and the other goods as well.
On a charcoal kiln a vine keeps climbing, while being burned to death.
Everything - a horse, a vine - is created for some duty. . . For what task, then, were you yourself created?
Compromise means to go just a little bit below what you know is right. It's just a little bit, but it's the little foxes that spoil the vine.
A man must have something to cling to. Without that he is as a pea vine sprawling in search of a trellis. . . . I was all asprawl, clinging to Beauty, which is a very restless trellis.
Plant no tree sooner than the vine.
Where are the feasts we were promised? Where is the wine, the new wine, dying on the vine.
The vine that has grown old on an old tree falls with the ruin of that tree, and through that bad companionship must perish with it.
I drank at every vine, the last was like the first. I came upon no wine so wonderful as thirst.
This policeman came up to me with a pencil and a piece of very thin paper. He said, "I want you to trace someone for me. "
The more congenial page of some tenth-rate poeticule worn out with failure after failure and now squat in his hole like the tailless fox, he is curled up to snarl and whimper beneath the inaccessible vine of song.
turn and turn and turn again you see the what, but not the when remedy and wrong entwine and so they form a single vine
Wine makes daily living easier, less hurried with fewer tensions and more tolerance.
Hot dogs and Red Vines and potato chips and French fries are my favorite foods.
After a war life catches desperately at passing hints of normalcy like vines entwining a hollow twig.
Isn't it wonderful that two of the most sacred and symbolic plants, the olive and the vine, live on almost nothing, a terrace of limestone, sun and rain.
The duty of the branch is to cling to the vine.
In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines 74 lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.
The vine-stock bears fruit as long as it is attached to its stem; apart from that, no.
Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For one grape who will the vine destroy?
