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My ears are too beeg for my head. My head ees too beeg for my body. I am not a Siamese cat ... I AM A CHIHUAHUA!"
-- Skippyjon Jones (In his very best Spanish accent)

Judy Schachner

Mots clés humor spanish chihuahua childrens-book siamese-cat

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Then she saw him stop and wipe his brow with his handkerchief. Once, twice. And then once again. But she did not see the grin of relief spread over his face. That she did not see because her eyes had filled with tears. And the geraniums, they were just as sad. In any case, that's how they smelled.

Wolfgang Borchert

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When beetles fight these battles in a bottle with their paddles
and the bottle's on a poodle and the poodle's eating noodles...
...they call this a muddle puddle tweetle poodle beetle noodle
bottle paddle battle.

Dr. Seuss

Mots clés humor childrens

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Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.

Oscar Wilde

Mots clés death-peace

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Not unseated,
Not even touched
By the shocks of sickness,
Gods stand worlds from men.

Bacchylides

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Actually, the gap between say Plato or Nietzsche and the average human is greater than the gap between that chimpanzee and the average human.

Louis MacKey

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I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

Marilyn Monroe

Mots clés attributed-no-source misattributed-marilyn-monroe

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I would not come in.
I meant not even if asked,
And I hadn't been.

Robert Frost

Mots clés poetry come-in

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The horses suddenly began to neigh, protesting
Against those who were drowning them in the ocean.
The horses sank to the bottom, neighing, neighing.
Until they had all gone down.
That is all. Nevertheless, I pity them,
Those bay horses, that never saw land again.

Boris Slutsky

Mots clés poetry horses

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Anger can be borne - it can even be satisfying - if it can gather into words and explode in a storm, or a rapier-sharp attack. But without these means of ventilation, it only turns back inward, building and swirling like a head of stream - building to an impotent, murderous rage.

Eva Hoffman

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