Proverbs, aphorisms, quotations (English) | by Linux fortune |
The Commandments of the EE: (5) Take care that thou useth the proper method when thou takest the measures of high-voltage circuits too, that thou dost not incinerate both thee and thy test meter, for verily, though thou has no company property number and can be easily surveyed, the test meter has one and, as a consequence, bringeth much woe unto a purchasing agent. (6) Take care that thou tamperest not with interlocks and safety devices, for this incurreth the wrath of the chief electrician and bring the fury of the engineers on his head. (7) Work thou not on energized equipment for if thou doest so, thy friends will surely be buying beers for thy widow and consoling her in certain ways not generally acceptable to thee. (8) Verily, verily I say unto thee, never service equipment alone, for electrical cooking is a slow process and thou might sizzle in thy own fat upon a hot circuit for hours on end before thy maker sees fit to end thy misery and drag thee into his fold. | |
Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go To heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow, And many miles be still to go, But under a tall tree I will lie, And let the clouds go sailing by. -- J. R. R. Tolkien | |
I lay my head on the railroad tracks, Waitin' for the double E. The railroad don't run no more. Poor poor pitiful me. [chorus] Poor poor pitiful me, poor poor pitiful me. These young girls won't let me be, Lord have mercy on me! Woe is me! Well, I met a girl, West Hollywood, Well, I ain't naming names. But she really worked me over good, She was just like Jesse James. She really worked me over good, She was a credit to her gender. She put me through some changes, boy, Sort of like a Waring blender. [chorus] I met a girl at the Rainbow Bar, She asked me if I'd beat her. She took me back to the Hyatt House, I don't want to talk about it. [chorus] -- Warren Zevon, "Poor Poor Pitiful Me" | |
Tyger, Tyger, burning bright Where the hammer? Where the chain? In the forests of the night, In what furnace was thy brain? What immortal hand or eye What the anvil? What dread grasp Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? Dare its deadly terrors clasp? Burnt in distant deeps or skies When the stars threw down their spears The cruel fire of thine eyes? And water'd heaven with their tears On what wings dare he aspire? Dare he laugh his work to see? What the hand dare seize the fire? Dare he who made the lamb make thee? And what shoulder & what art Tyger, Tyger, burning bright Could twist the sinews of they heart? In the forests of the night, And when thy heart began to beat What immortal hand or eye What dread hand & what dread feet Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? Could fetch it from the furnace deep And in thy horrid ribs dare steep In the well of sanguine woe? In what clay & in what mould Were thy eyes of fury roll'd? -- William Blake, "The Tyger" |