Manfred Klimek
Da musste ich doch erstmal lachen. Hat er nicht ganz unrecht!
Detlef
Wein-Zitate
Wein-Zitate
"Wahr ist aber: Wenn der Deutsche genießt, erwacht in ihm eine Sehnsucht, die der Österreicher nicht kennt: die Sehnsucht nach Analyse des Genuss, der Normierung des Genuss und der Sicherstellung weiterer Genüsse zu einem möglichst geringen Preis."
Manfred Klimek
Da musste ich doch erstmal lachen. Hat er nicht ganz unrecht!
Detlef
Manfred Klimek
Da musste ich doch erstmal lachen. Hat er nicht ganz unrecht!
Detlef
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jessesmaria
- Beiträge: 386
- Registriert: Mo 28. Dez 2020, 15:11
Re: Wein-Zitate
Das ist nicht schlecht, vor allem, weil wirklich was dran ist. 
Ob die Österreicher aber wirklich so viel besser sind? (Als die Schwaben vielleicht...)
Falls man mal in Verlegenheit gerät, sich ob seines Weinkonsums zu rechtfertigen, hier ein passendes Zitat von Jean Paul:
Der Wein wirkt stärkend auf den Geisteszustand, den er vorfindet: Er macht die Dummen dümmer, die Klugen klüger!
Von Muhammad Schams ad-Din (Hafiz) aus seinen Ghaselen, übersetzt von Friedrich von Bodenstedt 1877:
Droht der Weltschmerz mit steter Erweiterung,
Bleibt kein Mittel als Wein zur Erheiterung.
Ob die Österreicher aber wirklich so viel besser sind? (Als die Schwaben vielleicht...)Falls man mal in Verlegenheit gerät, sich ob seines Weinkonsums zu rechtfertigen, hier ein passendes Zitat von Jean Paul:
Der Wein wirkt stärkend auf den Geisteszustand, den er vorfindet: Er macht die Dummen dümmer, die Klugen klüger!
Von Muhammad Schams ad-Din (Hafiz) aus seinen Ghaselen, übersetzt von Friedrich von Bodenstedt 1877:
Droht der Weltschmerz mit steter Erweiterung,
Bleibt kein Mittel als Wein zur Erheiterung.
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Bernd Schulz
- Beiträge: 7531
- Registriert: Sa 11. Dez 2010, 23:55
Re: Wein-Zitate
Und ich halte Herrn Klimeks spezielle Aussage über "den Deutschen" im Gegensatz zu "dem Österreicher" für ebenso fundiert wie seine Meinung zum Jahrgang 2010 (in deutschen Weinbaugefilden). 
Herr Klimek, der sich ja auch schon selber in unserem Forum geäußert hat, hat fraglos eine Menge Ahnung von Wein. Zudem verfügt er über eine flotte, unterhaltsame Schreibe - aber er schreibt, wenn der Tag lang ist, auch immer wieder mal viel U.....
Diese Sehnsucht hängt aber ganz alleine mit meinem persönlichen Mangel an Kohle zusammen - und keineswegs mit meiner Nationalität.
Herzliche Grüße
Bernd
Herr Klimek, der sich ja auch schon selber in unserem Forum geäußert hat, hat fraglos eine Menge Ahnung von Wein. Zudem verfügt er über eine flotte, unterhaltsame Schreibe - aber er schreibt, wenn der Tag lang ist, auch immer wieder mal viel U.....
Ist das buchstabengetreu von Klimek? Es handelt sich jedenfalls um grammatikalisch falsches Deutsch.la-vita hat geschrieben:die Sehnsucht nach Analyse des Genuss...
Die Sehnsucht nach der Sicherstellung weiterer Genüsse zu einem möglichst geringen Preis kenne ich nur zu gut!la-vita hat geschrieben:....und der Sicherstellung weiterer Genüsse zu einem möglichst geringen Preis."
Diese Sehnsucht hängt aber ganz alleine mit meinem persönlichen Mangel an Kohle zusammen - und keineswegs mit meiner Nationalität.Herzliche Grüße
Bernd
Re: Wein-Zitate
Piani took out his knife with the corkscrew and drew the cork on a wine bottle.
“They have sealing-wax on it,” he said. “It must be good.” He smiled.
————
We sat in the hay and ate the sausage and drank the wine. It must have been wine they had saved for a wedding. It was so old that it was losing its color.
————
We had each been drinking out of one of the bottles and I took my bottle with me and went over and lay flat on the hay and looked out the narrow window at the wet country. I do not know what I expected to see but I did not see anything except the fields and the bare mulberry trees and the rain falling. I drank the wine and it did not make me feel good. They had kept it too long and it had gone to pieces and lost its quality and color.
Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
“They have sealing-wax on it,” he said. “It must be good.” He smiled.
————
We sat in the hay and ate the sausage and drank the wine. It must have been wine they had saved for a wedding. It was so old that it was losing its color.
————
We had each been drinking out of one of the bottles and I took my bottle with me and went over and lay flat on the hay and looked out the narrow window at the wet country. I do not know what I expected to see but I did not see anything except the fields and the bare mulberry trees and the rain falling. I drank the wine and it did not make me feel good. They had kept it too long and it had gone to pieces and lost its quality and color.
Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
Re: Wein-Zitate
We drank dry white capri iced in a bucket; although we tried many of the other wines, fresa, barbera and the sweet white wines. They had no wine waiter because of the war and George would smile ashamedly when I asked about wines like fresa.
“If you imagine a country that makes a wine because it tastes like strawberries,” he said.
“Why shouldn’t it?” Catherine asked. “It sounds splendid.”
“You try it, lady,” said George, “if you want to. But let me bring a little bottle of margaux for the Tenente.”
“I’ll try it too, George.”
“Sir, I can’t recommend you to. It doesn’t even taste like strawberries.”
“It might,” said Catherine. “It would be wonderful if it did.”
“I’ll bring it,” said George, “and when the Lady is satisfied I’ll take it away.”
It was not much of a wine. As he said, it did not even taste like strawberries. We went back to capri.
Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
“If you imagine a country that makes a wine because it tastes like strawberries,” he said.
“Why shouldn’t it?” Catherine asked. “It sounds splendid.”
“You try it, lady,” said George, “if you want to. But let me bring a little bottle of margaux for the Tenente.”
“I’ll try it too, George.”
“Sir, I can’t recommend you to. It doesn’t even taste like strawberries.”
“It might,” said Catherine. “It would be wonderful if it did.”
“I’ll bring it,” said George, “and when the Lady is satisfied I’ll take it away.”
It was not much of a wine. As he said, it did not even taste like strawberries. We went back to capri.
Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
Re: Wein-Zitate
“Can I have wine with the meals?” I asked her.
“Only if the doctor prescribes it.”
“I can’t have it until he comes?”
“Absolutely not.”
——————
One day while I was in bed with jaundice Miss Van Campen came in the room, opened the door into the armoire and saw the empty bottles there. I had sent a load of them down by the porter and I believe she must have seen them going out and come up to find some more. They were mostly vermouth bottles, marsala bottles, capri bottles, empty chianti flasks and a few cognac bottles. The porter had carried out the large bottles, those that had held vermouth, and the straw-covered chianti flasks, and left the brandy bottles for the last. It was the brandy bottles and a bottle shaped like a bear, which had held kümmel, that Miss Van Campen found. The bear-shaped bottle enraged her particularly. She held it up; the bear was sitting up on his haunches with his paws up; there was a cork in his glass head and a few sticky crystals at the bottom. I laughed.
“It was kümmel,” I said. “The best kümmel comes in those bear-shaped bottles. It comes from Russia.”
“Those are all brandy bottles, aren’t they?” Miss Van Campen asked.
“I can’t see them all,” I said. “But they probably are.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“I bought them and brought them in myself,” I said. “I have had Italian officers visit me frequently and I have kept brandy to offer them.”
“You haven’t been drinking it yourself?” she said.
“I have also drunk it myself.”
“Brandy,” she said. “Eleven empty bottles of brandy and that bear liquid.”
“Kümmel.”
“I will send for some one to take them away. Those are all the empty bottles you have?”
“For the moment.”
“And I was pitying you having jaundice. Pity is something that is wasted on you.”
“Thank you.”
“I suppose you can’t be blamed for not wanting to go back to the front. But I should think you would try something more intelligent than producing jaundice with alcoholism.”
“With what?”
“With alcoholism. You heard me say it.” I did not say anything. “Unless you find something else I’m afraid you will have to go back to the front when you are through with your jaundice. I don’t believe self-inflicted jaundice entitles you to a convalescent leave.”
“You don’t?”
“I do not.”
“Have you ever had jaundice, Miss Van Campen?”
“No, but I have seen a great deal of it.”
“You noticed how the patients enjoyed it?”
“I suppose it is better than the front.”
“Miss Van Campen,” I said, “did you ever know a man who tried to disable himself by kicking himself in the scrotum?”
Miss Van Campen ignored the actual question. She had to ignore it or leave the room. She was not ready to leave because she had disliked me for a long time and she was now cashing in.
“I have known many men to escape the front through self-inflicted wounds.”
“That wasn’t the question. I have seen self-inflicted wounds also. I asked you if you had ever known a man who had tried to disable himself by kicking himself in the scrotum. Because that is the nearest sensation to jaundice and it is a sensation that I believe few women have ever experienced. That was why I asked you if you had ever had the jaundice, Miss Van Campen, because —” Miss Van Campen left the room. Later Miss Gage came in.
“What did you say to Van Campen? She was furious.”
“We were comparing sensations. I was going to suggest that she had never experienced childbirth —”
“You’re a fool,” Gage said. “She’s after your scalp.”
“She has my scalp,” I said. “She’s lost me my leave and she might try and get me court-martialled. She’s mean enough.”
“She never liked you,” Gage said. “What’s it about?”
“She says I’ve drunk myself into jaundice so as not to go back to the front.”
“Pooh,” said Gage. “I’ll swear you’ve never taken a drink. Everybody will swear you’ve never taken a drink.”
“She found the bottles.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times to clear out those bottles. Where are they now?”
“In the armoire.”
“Have you a suitcase?”
“No. Put them in that rucksack.”
Miss Gage packed the bottles in the rucksack. “I’ll give them to the porter,” she said. She started for the door.
“Just a minute,” Miss Van Campen said. “I’ll take those bottles.” She had the porter with her. “Carry them, please,” she said. “I want to show them to the doctor when I make my report.”
She went down the hall. The porter carried the sack. He knew what was in it.
Nothing happened except that I lost my leave.
Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
“Only if the doctor prescribes it.”
“I can’t have it until he comes?”
“Absolutely not.”
——————
One day while I was in bed with jaundice Miss Van Campen came in the room, opened the door into the armoire and saw the empty bottles there. I had sent a load of them down by the porter and I believe she must have seen them going out and come up to find some more. They were mostly vermouth bottles, marsala bottles, capri bottles, empty chianti flasks and a few cognac bottles. The porter had carried out the large bottles, those that had held vermouth, and the straw-covered chianti flasks, and left the brandy bottles for the last. It was the brandy bottles and a bottle shaped like a bear, which had held kümmel, that Miss Van Campen found. The bear-shaped bottle enraged her particularly. She held it up; the bear was sitting up on his haunches with his paws up; there was a cork in his glass head and a few sticky crystals at the bottom. I laughed.
“It was kümmel,” I said. “The best kümmel comes in those bear-shaped bottles. It comes from Russia.”
“Those are all brandy bottles, aren’t they?” Miss Van Campen asked.
“I can’t see them all,” I said. “But they probably are.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“I bought them and brought them in myself,” I said. “I have had Italian officers visit me frequently and I have kept brandy to offer them.”
“You haven’t been drinking it yourself?” she said.
“I have also drunk it myself.”
“Brandy,” she said. “Eleven empty bottles of brandy and that bear liquid.”
“Kümmel.”
“I will send for some one to take them away. Those are all the empty bottles you have?”
“For the moment.”
“And I was pitying you having jaundice. Pity is something that is wasted on you.”
“Thank you.”
“I suppose you can’t be blamed for not wanting to go back to the front. But I should think you would try something more intelligent than producing jaundice with alcoholism.”
“With what?”
“With alcoholism. You heard me say it.” I did not say anything. “Unless you find something else I’m afraid you will have to go back to the front when you are through with your jaundice. I don’t believe self-inflicted jaundice entitles you to a convalescent leave.”
“You don’t?”
“I do not.”
“Have you ever had jaundice, Miss Van Campen?”
“No, but I have seen a great deal of it.”
“You noticed how the patients enjoyed it?”
“I suppose it is better than the front.”
“Miss Van Campen,” I said, “did you ever know a man who tried to disable himself by kicking himself in the scrotum?”
Miss Van Campen ignored the actual question. She had to ignore it or leave the room. She was not ready to leave because she had disliked me for a long time and she was now cashing in.
“I have known many men to escape the front through self-inflicted wounds.”
“That wasn’t the question. I have seen self-inflicted wounds also. I asked you if you had ever known a man who had tried to disable himself by kicking himself in the scrotum. Because that is the nearest sensation to jaundice and it is a sensation that I believe few women have ever experienced. That was why I asked you if you had ever had the jaundice, Miss Van Campen, because —” Miss Van Campen left the room. Later Miss Gage came in.
“What did you say to Van Campen? She was furious.”
“We were comparing sensations. I was going to suggest that she had never experienced childbirth —”
“You’re a fool,” Gage said. “She’s after your scalp.”
“She has my scalp,” I said. “She’s lost me my leave and she might try and get me court-martialled. She’s mean enough.”
“She never liked you,” Gage said. “What’s it about?”
“She says I’ve drunk myself into jaundice so as not to go back to the front.”
“Pooh,” said Gage. “I’ll swear you’ve never taken a drink. Everybody will swear you’ve never taken a drink.”
“She found the bottles.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times to clear out those bottles. Where are they now?”
“In the armoire.”
“Have you a suitcase?”
“No. Put them in that rucksack.”
Miss Gage packed the bottles in the rucksack. “I’ll give them to the porter,” she said. She started for the door.
“Just a minute,” Miss Van Campen said. “I’ll take those bottles.” She had the porter with her. “Carry them, please,” she said. “I want to show them to the doctor when I make my report.”
She went down the hall. The porter carried the sack. He knew what was in it.
Nothing happened except that I lost my leave.
Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
Re: Wein-Zitate
Alkohol als Kult, Lebensstil und freundliche Begleitung in Höhen und Tiefen - das schildert Hemingway. Ohne dass negative Auswirkungen wie in der Klinik-Szene eine besondere Rolle spielen. In „A Farewell to Arms“ wird nur einmal Trunkenheit beschrieben, als ein traumatisierter Armeechirurg in größerer Runde ausfällig wird und sich die Gewohnheitstrinker einig sind, er solle weniger trinken. Ansonsten erscheint Alkohol in diesem Roman von 1929 als wichtige existenzielle Konstante, über die auch in dramatischen Zeiten immer wieder die Gedanken kreisen.
I went back to the papers and the war in the papers and
poured the soda slowly over the ice into the whiskey. I
would have to tell them not to put ice in the whiskey.
Let them bring the ice separately. That way you could
tell how much whiskey there was and it would not sud-
denly be too thin from the soda. I would get a bottle
of whiskey and have them bring ice and soda. That
was the sensible way. Good whiskey was very pleasant.
It was one of the pleasant parts of life.
"What are you thinking, darling?"
"About whiskey."
"What about whiskey?"
"About how nice it is."
Catherine made a face. "All right," she said.
Es ist nie ganz klar, ob Genuss oder Wirkung dominieren, aber selbst auf der Flucht vor Erschießungskommandos über den Lago Maggiore, 35 Kilometer im Ruderboot im November bei Regen, leistet Brandy gute Dienste. Der Held erreicht mit seiner schwangeren Freundin die sichere Schweiz und sie genießen ihre Liebe.
„I drink some wine“, Catherine said. „It won´t hurt me.“
Der Arzt empfiehlt ihr angeblich Bier für eine gute Entbindung.
Manches wirkt harmlos und oberflächlich, doch dann folgen kraftvolle und oft erschreckende Szenen, als hätte man sie selbst erlebt… Bei Catherine setzen die Wehen ein und in einer guten Klinik in Lausanne soll das gemeinsame Kind zur Welt kommen. Dieser über einen Tag dauernde qualvolle Geburtsprozess wird zur ausgiebig geschilderten, schockierend real erscheinenden Horrorstory, Frau und Kind sterben.
Ich weiß noch einmal besser, wodurch die Wirkung des Alkoholikers Hemingway begründet ist.
I went back to the papers and the war in the papers and
poured the soda slowly over the ice into the whiskey. I
would have to tell them not to put ice in the whiskey.
Let them bring the ice separately. That way you could
tell how much whiskey there was and it would not sud-
denly be too thin from the soda. I would get a bottle
of whiskey and have them bring ice and soda. That
was the sensible way. Good whiskey was very pleasant.
It was one of the pleasant parts of life.
"What are you thinking, darling?"
"About whiskey."
"What about whiskey?"
"About how nice it is."
Catherine made a face. "All right," she said.
Es ist nie ganz klar, ob Genuss oder Wirkung dominieren, aber selbst auf der Flucht vor Erschießungskommandos über den Lago Maggiore, 35 Kilometer im Ruderboot im November bei Regen, leistet Brandy gute Dienste. Der Held erreicht mit seiner schwangeren Freundin die sichere Schweiz und sie genießen ihre Liebe.
„I drink some wine“, Catherine said. „It won´t hurt me.“
Der Arzt empfiehlt ihr angeblich Bier für eine gute Entbindung.
Manches wirkt harmlos und oberflächlich, doch dann folgen kraftvolle und oft erschreckende Szenen, als hätte man sie selbst erlebt… Bei Catherine setzen die Wehen ein und in einer guten Klinik in Lausanne soll das gemeinsame Kind zur Welt kommen. Dieser über einen Tag dauernde qualvolle Geburtsprozess wird zur ausgiebig geschilderten, schockierend real erscheinenden Horrorstory, Frau und Kind sterben.
Ich weiß noch einmal besser, wodurch die Wirkung des Alkoholikers Hemingway begründet ist.