Sunday, January 29, 2012
Port improves with age. The older I get, the better I like it.
Port, madam, is God's next best gift to man.
In victory, you deserve Port, in defeat, you need it.
Port makes daily living easier, less hurried, with fewer tensions and more tolerance.
Good Port is a necessity of life for me.
Port makes a man more pleased with himself; I do not say it makes him more pleasing to others.
My only regret in life is that I did not drink more Port.
When there is plenty of Port, sorrow and worry take wing.
It has become quite a common proverb that in Port there is truth.
Port is bottled poetry.
Port makes every meal an occasion, every table more elegant, every day more civilized.
What is better than to sit at the end of the day and drink Port with friends, or substitutes fro friends?
When asked what Port he liked to drink, he replied, "That which belongs to another".
Where there is no Port there is no love.
Drink Port, and you will sleep well. Sleep well and you will not sin. Avoid sin, and you will be saved. Ergo, drink wine and be saved.
With Port and hope, anything is possible.
Quickly, bring me a beaker of Port so that I may wet my mind and say something clever.
If I ever reach an age when my chief entertainment is remembrance of things past, I shall think very often about Port.
Port, like the rising sun, possession gains, And drives the mist of dullness from the brains, The gloomy vapor from the spirit flies, And views of gaiety and gladness rise.
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