“God alert!" Blackjack yelled. "It's the wine dude!Mr. D sighed in exasperation. "The next person, or horse, who calls me the 'wine dude' will end up in a bottle of Merlot!”

“Did someone just call me the wine dude?” he asked in a lazy drawl. “It’s Bacchus, please. Or Mr. Bacchus. Or Lord Bacchus. Or, sometimes, Oh-My-Gods-Please-Don’t-Kill-Me, Lord Bacchus.”

“Bottles of wine aren't like paintings. At some point you have to consume them. The object in life is to die with no bottles of wine in your cellar. To drink your last bottle of wine and go to sleep that night and not wake up.”

“You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine."Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say these days, Grover? Do the children say 'Well duh!'?"Y-yes, Mr. D."Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?" You're a god."Yes, child."A god. You.”

“Nanny Ogg appreciated fine wine in her very own way. It would never have occurred to Casanunda that anyone would top up white wine with port merely because she'd reached the end of the bottle.”

“[Wine is] poetry in a bottle.”