The best advice I can give people when they buy Burgundy, which is a bit of a roulette game, is to look for producers who are tried and true... Look for the name of the producer, whether Michel Lafarge, Domaine Leflaivre, Dominique Lafont, or another. When they put their name on the bottle, they're proud.
[She had] a gay adventuresome spirit that was never to die, though it led her into curious places and she often found, at the end, only a trackless waste from which she had to retrace her steps painfully. But always, to her, red and green cabbages were to be jade and burgundy, chrysoprase and porphyry. Life has no weapons against a woman like that.
The hardest achievement in acting - in my opinion, anyway - is nailing a role that absolutely nobody else could have played. Pacino owned Michael Corleone... but DeNiro could have owned it as well. Who else, though, but Val Kilmer could have nailed Jim Morrison? Does anyone besides Will Ferrell pull off Ron Burgundy?
I'd watch the news with my dad, and he'd quietly mock the anchors. An anchorman might say, 'Police are searching for...' and my dad would say in the anchorman's voice, 'the man who gave me this haircut.' This was in the real Ron Burgundy '70s. And I would laugh and start doing it myself.
-Well, well, look what you dragged up. You could've saved yourself the money on the flowers and just brought me him. Been a while since I entertained a handsome young Moroi -It's been a while since I've met a woman who appreciates roses as much as I do, said Adrian, ever quick on his feet. Not that my experience has always been great with them. I've got to say, though, I've never seen such excellent decorating taste. You go for pink too, huh? I told them that when they got the flowers, but would they listen to me? No. They insisted on burgundy.
I rejoiced in the Burgundy. It seemed a reminder that the world was an older and better place than Rex knew, that mankind in its long passion had learned another wisdom than his. By chance I met this same wine again, lunching with my wine merchant in St James's Street in the first Autumn of the war; it had softened and faded in the intervening years, but it still spoke in the pure, authentic accent of its prime, the same words of hope.
I smiled at the stacks, inhaling again. Hundreds of thousands of pages that had never been turned, waiting for me. The shelves were a warm, blond wood, piled with spines of every color. Staff picks were arranged on tables, glossy covers reflecting the light back at me. Behind the little cubby where the cashier sat, ignoring us, stairs covered with rich burgundy carpet led up to the worlds unknown. 'I could just live here,' I said.
I smiled at the stacks, inhaling again. Hundreds of thousands of pages that had never been turned, waiting for me. The shelves were a warm, blond wood, piled with spines of every color. Staff picks were arranged on tables, glossy covers reflecting the light back at me. Behind the little cubby where the cashier sat, ignoring us, stairs covered with rich burgundy carpet led up to the worlds unknown. 'I could just live here, ' I said.
The color palette grew as the story progressed. The 1920's sharecroppers were muted and neutrals, the 30's and 40's introduced burgundy to the neutral palette. The 1950's introduced green, black and denim blue, the 1960's introduced orange and heavier more saturated color, the 1970's introduced more primaries, and the fashion palette became more recognizable as a contemporary one from there.
Ruth E. Carter
For blue eyes, use warm browns, peaches, and yellows to compliment the eyes. Brown and hazel eyes sparkle in blue and purple shades, which flatters the orange undertone of brown eyes. Green eyes stand out in burgundy and plum shades like CoverGirl Queen Collection Vivid Impact Eyeliner in Cabernet.
The sun goes down long and red. All the magic names of the valley unrolled - Manteca, Madera, all the rest. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon field; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments.
Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon: Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect My love should kindle to inflamed respect. Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France: Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy Can buy this unprized precious maid of me. Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind: Thou losest here, a better where to find.
He could pass off the inferior bottles on tables seven and four. Table seven knew nothing of wine, sending back a bottle of Riesling as "corked" because it had bits of cork in it, the imbeciles. Table four had gulped down a very special old pale brandy as though it was common wood alcohol, which was probably what they had been drinking because they had said that his brandy lacked bite. They deserved inferior burgundy. The bottles that had been stored too close to the stove might have enough bite by now for table four. A wine waiter's revenge may be long in coming, but it arrives in the end.
PAST SIX IN THE MORNING* ANOTHER DAY IS DAWNING. BACK IN MY HOTEL ROOM AGAIN KEEPING MY COOL. A GUY WANTED TO WALK ME TO THE DOOR, HEARD THESE WORDS A COUPLE OF TIMES BEFORE. HE WANTED TO TAKE MY LONELY BODY FOR A MOMENT I WOULD BELONG TO SOMEBODY. I LOOKED DEEPLY INTO HIS YOUNG EYES, SMILED AT HIM AND SAID: - THANK YOU I'M FINE. THEN I TOOK MY LAST SIP OF DEEP RED BURGUNDY WINE. WALKED THE LONG CORRIDOR, WAS ALONE BUT NOT AFRAID OF IT LIKE BEFORE. LIFE SOMETIMES CAN TASTE SO BITTER, I'M STARTING TO ABSORB IT, NOT AS AN ILUSION AND THAT MAKES ME UNDERESTAND THE MEANING OF IT DEEPER. MY BED MIGHT BE COLD AND EMPTY BUT I AM SWEETER. AM I WAITING FOR AN ANGEL IN DISGUISE, TO RESCUE ME FROM THE HUNGRY DEMONS' EYES? THIS TIME IN THE TEMPTATION GAME I KNOW BY HEART, I'M THE WINNER, BUT HEAVEN AND HELL KNOW THAT I WILL STAY A TIME TO TIME SINNER.
Do you see that man in the black Porsche?" I asked the women. They squinted out at Ranger. "Yes, " they said."Your partner." "He's homeless. He's looking for a place to stay and he might be interested in renting Singh's room." Mrs.Apusenja's eyes widened. "We could use the income."She looked at Nonnie and then back at Ranger. "Is he married?" "Nope. He's single. He's a real catch." Connie did something between a gasp and a snort and buried her head back behind the computer. "Thank you for everything." Mrs.Apusenja said. "I suppose you are not such a bad slut. I will go talk to your partner.: "Omigod, " Connie said, when the door closed behind the Apusenja's. "Ranger's going to kill you." The Apusenjas stood beside the Porsche, talkig to Ranger for a few long minutes, giving him the big sales pitch. The pitch wound down, Ranger responded, and Mrs. Apusenja looked disappointed. The two women crossed the road and got into the burgundy Escort and quickly drove away. Ranger turned his head in my direction and our eyes met. His expression was still bemused, but this time it was the sort of bemused expression a kid has when he's pulling the wings off a fly. "Uh-Oh, "Connie said. I whipped around and faced Connie. "Quick, give me an FTA. You're backed up, right? For God's sake, give me something fast. I need a reason to stand here until he calms down!" Connie shoved a pile of folders at me. "Pick one. Any one! Oh shit, he's getting out of his car."... He leaned into me and his lips brushed the shell of my ear. "Feeling playful?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "Watch your back babe. I will get even." -Ranger and Stephanie