with a hey and a ho and hey-nonny-no!
that o'er the green cornfield did pass,
hey-nonny-no, hey-nonny-no!
in the springtime, only ring time, birds do song,
hey-ding-a-ding-ding, hey-ding-a-ding-ding


- william shakespeare as you like it

The bells of hell go ring a ling a ling
For you but not for me
The demons grin and sing a ling a ling
In four-part harmony
They sing they'll off your ding a ling a ling
And eat it like a Brie
O Death where is thy sting a ling a ling
Or Grave thy victoreeeeeee?
The bells of hell go ring a ling a ling
For you but not for me.

-- anon, with help from the Poetry Rewrite Desk

Later she was scared. Of saying yes. Of saying no. Of saying yes then realising she should have said no. Of saying no then realising she should have said yes. Of being naked in front of another man when her body sometimes made her feel like weeping.

Mark Haddon: A Spot of Bother

DEREK ZOOLANDER: im pretty sure there's a lot more to life than being really, really, ridiculously good looking. and i plan on finding out what that is.

Men fear thought as they fear nothing else on earth — more than ruin -- more even than death. ... Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and terrible, thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions, and comfortable habit. Thought looks into the pit of hell and is not afraid. Thought is great and swift and free, the light of the world, and the chief glory of man.
– Bertrand Russell

Consider the daffodil. And while you're doing that, I'll be over here, looking through your stuff.

-- Jack Handey

Whenever people say 'We mustn't be sentimental,' you can take it they are about to do something cruel. And if they add 'We must be realistic,' they mean they are going to make money out of it.

-- Brigid Brophy

people see the world not as it is, but as they are.

al lee

DONKEY: blue flower, red thorns! blue flower, red thorns! blue flower, red thorns! oh, this would be so much easier if i wasn't color-blind!

- from shrek

The great enemy of clear language is insincerity. When there is a gap between one's real and one's declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish spurting out ink. In our age there is no such thing as keeping out of politics. All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred, and schizophrenia. When the general atmosphere is bad, language must suffer.

-George Orwell

How did an allegedly free people spawn a vast, rampant cuttlefish of dominion with its tentacles in every orifice of the body politic?

P.J. O'Rourke, Parliament of Whores

I would like to welcome our new squid overlords.

~ trisherina

A lot of my peer group think I'm an eccentric bisexual, like I may even have an ammonia-filled tentacle somewhere on my body. That's okay.

~Robert Downey, Jr.

He didn’t have a problem with homosexuality per se. Men having sex with men. One could imagine, if one was in the business of imagining such things, that there were situations where it might happen, situations in which chaps were denied the normal outlets. Military camps. Long sea voyages. One didn’t want to dwell on the plumbing but one could almost see it as a sporting activity. Letting off steam. High spirits. Handshake and a hot shower afterwards.
It was the thought of men purchasing furniture together which disturbed him. Men snuggling. More disconcerting, somehow, than shenanigans in public toilets. It gave him the unpleasant feeling that there was a weakness in the very fabric of the world. Like seeing a man hit a woman in the street. Or suddenly not being able to remember the bedroom you had as a child.
Still, things changed. Mobile phones. Thai restaurants. You had to remain elastic or you turned into an angry fossil railing at litter.

Mark Haddon: A Spot of Bother

'Don't blame me, Pongo,' said Lord Ickenham, 'if Lady Constance takes her lorgnette to you. God bless my soul, though, you can't compare the lorgnettes of today with the ones I used to know as a boy. I remember walking one day on Grosvenor Square with my Aunt Brenda and her pug dog Jabberwocky, and a policeman came up and said the latter ought to be wearing a muzzle. My aunt made no verbal reply. She merely whipped her lorgnette from its holder and looked at the man, who gave one choking gasp and fell back against the railings, eyes starting as if he had seen some dreadful sight. A doctor was sent for, and they managed to bring him round, but he was never the same again. He had to leave the Force, and eventually drifted into the grocery business. And that is how Sir Thomas Lipton got his start.’
-- PG Wodehouse, "Uncle Fred in the Springtime", 1939