Proverbs, aphorisms, quotations (English) | by Linux fortune |
Potahto' Pictures Productions Presents: THE TATERNATOR: Cyborg spud returns from the future to present-day McDonald's restaurant to kill the potatoess (girl 'tater) who will give birth to the world's largest french fry (The Dark Powers of Burger King are clearly behind this). Most quotable line: "Ah'll be baked..." A FISTFUL OF FRIES: Western in which our hero, The Spud with No Name, rides into a town that's deprived of carbohydrates thanks to the evil takeover of the low-cal Scallopinni Brothers. Plenty of smokeouts, fry-em-ups, and general butter-melting by all. FOR A FEW FRIES MORE: Takes up where AFOF left off! Cameo by Walter Cronkite, as every man's common 'tater! | |
Melting hard drives | |
Electrical conduits in machine room are melting. | |
New York is a jungle, they tell you. You could go further, and say that New York is a jungle. New York *is a jungle.* Beneath the columns of the old rain forest, made of melting macadam, the mean Limpopo of swamped Ninth Avenue bears an angry argosy of crocs and dragons, tiger fish, noise machines, sweating rainmakers. On the corners stand witchdoctors and headhunters, babbling voodoo-men -- the natives, the jungle-smart natives. And at night, under the equatorial overgrowth and heat-holding cloud cover, you hear the ragged parrot-hoot and monkeysqueak of the sirens, and then fires flower to ward off monsters. Careful: the streets are sprung with pits and nets and traps. Hire a guide. Pack your snakebite gook and your blowdart serum. Take it seriously. You have to get a bit jungle-wise. -- Martin Amis, _Money_ | |
He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Of music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering. He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hill-top high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering. When winter passed, she came again, And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling. -- J. R. R. Tolkien | |
And then there was the lawyer that stepped in cow manure and thought he was melting... | |
Down that path lies madness. On the other hand, the road to hell is paved with melting snowballs. -- Larry Wall in <1992Jul2.222039.26476@netlabs.com> | |
"The road to hell is paved with melting snowballs." -- Larry Wall in <1992Jul2.222039.26476@netlabs.com> |