The last drops quivered, and resisted their fall, from the bottle’s lip towards the glass. I heard the words in my head again: “This, too, shall pass.” This ancient axiom has shadowed my consciousness for longer than I can recall, and in that moment, I was bathed in its radiant — if painful — veracity. It is not every day that I feel compelled to pull a special bottle from the cellar, and for the first time, it was a choice that I wished I did not have to make. We have a very modestly sized wine cellar, constructed…