Even the stout of heart shrink when they see the approach of death.
The flow of Guiness into the studio was inspirational as well as nutritive.
Wine has class. I love wine. The drier, the better. But beer? I just can't do it.
Wracked with a hangover I do my muttering over a Black Velvet, a union of champagne and stout. Don't be swindled into believing there's any cure for a hangover. I've tried them all: iced tomatoes, hot clam juice, brandy peaches. Like the common cold it defies solution. Time alone can stay it. The hair of the dog? That way lies folly. It's as logical as trying to put out a fire with applications of kerosene.
Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal.
History - a biography of a few stout and earnest persons
A fat man is never so happy as when he is describing himself as "robust.
Do you know what I am going to tell you, he said with his wry mouth, a pint of plain is your only man. Notwithstanding this eulogy, I soon found that the mass of plain porter bears an unsatisfactory relation to its toxic content and I subsequently became addicted to brown stout in bottle, a drink which still remains the one that I prefer the most despite the painful and blinding fits of vomiting which a plurality of bottles has often induced in me.
I've actually tasted the beer; it's quite nice. It's called Samuel Smith, which is my actual name. It's good beer. Maybe that's my favorite.
A stout heart, a clear conscience, and never despair.
I'm more of a Smithwick's or Bulmer's girl than a pint of Guinness.
Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand.
Steady of heart and stout of hand.
In times gone by there lived a Count of Ponthieu, who loved chivalry and the pleasures of the world beyond measure, and moreover was a stout knight and a gallant gentleman
I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.
I do like Guinness, I have to say, because you feel like you're eating something.
Sturdy beggars can bear stout denials.
Calonice: My dear Lysistrata, just what is this matter you've summoned us women to consider.What's up? Something big? Lysistrata: Very big. Calonice: (interested) Is it stout too? Lysistrata: (smiling) Yes, indeed -- both big and stout. Calonice: What? And the women still haven't come? Lysistrata: It's not what you suppose; they'd come soon enough for that.
