Dictionary De - En
De - Es
De - Pt| Proverbs, aphorisms, quotations (English) | by Linux fortune |
| "There was nothing I hated more than to see a filthy old drunkie, a howling away at the sons of his father and going blurp blurp in between as if it were a filthy old orchestra in his stinking rotten guts. I could never stand to see anyone like that, especially when they were old like this one was." - Alex in "Clockwork Orange" | |
| "Take that, you hostile sons-of-bitches!" -- James Coburn, in the finale of _The_President's_Analyst_ | |
| I have a dream. I have a dream that one day, on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. -- Martin Luther King, Jr. | |
| Our sires' age was worse that our grandsires'. We their sons are more worthless than they: so in our turn we shall give the world a progeny yet more corrupt. -- Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace) | |
| There was an old Indian belief that by making love on the hide of their favorite animal, one could guarantee the health and prosperity of the offspring conceived thereupon. And so it goes that one Indian couple made love on a buffalo hide. Nine months later, they were blessed with a healthy baby son. Yet another couple huddled together on the hide of a deer and they too were blessed with a very healthy baby son. But a third couple, whose favorite animal was a hippopotamus, were blessed with not one, but TWO very healthy baby sons at the conclusion of the nine month interval. All of which proves the old theorem that: The sons of the squaw of the hippopotamus are equal to the sons of the squaws of the other two hides. | |
| Our sires' age was worse that our grandsires'. We their sons are more worthless than they: so in our turn we shall give the world a progeny yet more corrupt. -- Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace) | |
| Please stand for the National Anthem: O Canada Our home and native land True patriot love In all thy sons' command With glowing hearts we see thee rise The true north strong and free From far and wide, O Canada We stand on guard for thee God keep our land glorious and free O Canada we stand on guard for thee O Canada we stand on guard for thee Thank you. You may resume your seat. | |
| This is the story of the bee Whose sex is very hard to see You cannot tell the he from the she But she can tell, and so can he The little bee is never still She has no time to take the pill And that is why, in times like these There are so many sons of bees. | |
| We've tried each spinning space mote And reckoned its true worth: Take us back again to the homes of men On the cool, green hills of Earth. The arching sky is calling Spacemen back to their trade. All hands! Standby! Free falling! And the lights below us fade. Out ride the sons of Terra, Far drives the thundering jet, Up leaps the race of Earthmen, Out, far, and onward yet-- We pray for one last landing On the globe that gave us birth; Let us rest our eyes on the fleecy skies And the cool, green hills of Earth. -- Robert A. Heinlein, 1941 | |
| The beginning of the universe Is the mother of all things. Knowing the mother, on also knows the sons. Knowing the sons, yet remaining in touch with the mother, Brings freedom from the fear of death. Keep your mouth shut, Guard the senses, And life is ever full. Open your mouth, Always be busy, And life is beyond hope. Seeing the small is insight; Yielding to force is strength. Using the outer light, return to insight, And in this way be saved from harm. This is learning constancy. | |
| May you have many handsome and obedient sons. | |
| Every man who has reached even his intellectual teens begins to suspect that life is no farce; that it is not genteel comedy even; that it flowers and fructifies on the contrary out of the profoundest tragic depths of the essential death in which its subject's roots are plunged. The natural inheritance of everyone who is capable of spiritual life is an unsubdued forest where the wolf howls and the obscene bird of night chatters. -- Henry James Sr., writing to his sons Henry and William | |
