“I tapped a forefinger to my temple and raised my glass of single-vineyard Foxen Pinot. "Between here and here lies the Rubicon of the… — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
“Miles, it's only morning and you're already drunk." "No, I'm not," I weakly protested. "I'm just thirsty.” — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
“I can't kill myself, I thought. I'm too insignificant. I'm nothing. I'm a thumbprint on the first-floor window of a skyscraper, a smudge of… — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
“I forced a swift smile, then turned back to my glass, salvation and sanctuary viniferously bundled into one.” — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
“I snapped to consciousness with the incandescent realization that somewhere, deep in our dreams, or deep in unconsciousness, or deep in the afterlife, all… — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
“Wine is so complex, I mused. Thousands of experts and hundreds of thousands of amateur experts would rhapsodize or vilify the vinification of these… — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
“Pinot Noir country. My grape. The one varietal that truly enchants me, both stills and steals my heart with its elusive loveliness and false… — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
“You're such a cheater. The best wood in your golf bag is your pencil!” — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
“In tasting rooms I can never tell how tipsy I am. But once I'm outside, the awareness factor of my inebriation is greatly magnified.… — Rex Pickett Copy Share Image
