"Their passion seemed as always bright and new. Heady and sweet, it was a river of wine on which they drifted this winter's night in the radiance of summer, and every motion, every half-spoken murmur, with a promise of further delight. On and on they drove each other down that wild river, sweeping through rapids and over falls, ever touching, ever thrilling until their straining bodies seemed melded as one and the river of wine had turned into a river of brandy and intoxicated them, each with the other."
Windsong -- Valerie Sherwood