Chief Inspector Uhl: As a boy, I'm told, he had a chance encounter with a traveling magician. Traveling Magician: Boy! Chief Inspector Uhl: One version of the story was that the man himself then vanished. Along with the tree! Who knows what actually ...
Lex: [a Brachiosaur eats from the tree Grant, Lex and Tim are sleeping in] Go away! Dr. Alan Grant: It's OK. It's OK. It's a Brachiosaur. Tim: It's a veggiesaurus Lex! Veggiesaurus! Lex: Veggie!
Idi Amin: They take you to a tree and hang you by your skin. Each time you scream the evil comes out of you. Sometimes, it can take three days for your evil to be spent. Pull him up.
Herman Blume: Why did you ask me to come here? Max Fischer: Oh, I was going to drop that tree on you. Herman Blume: That big one? Max Fischer: Yeah. Herman Blume: It would've flattened me like a pancake.
Charlotte Palmer: To think! We can see his insufferable house from the top of our hill. I shall ask Jackson to plant some very tall trees. Mr. Palmer: You will do nothing of the sort.
Will Munny: Here, take this money and give my half and Ned's half to my kids. Tell 'em if I ain't back in a week, they give half to Sally Two-Trees. You keep the rest, you can get them spectacles now.
Scarecrow: Come along, Dorothy. You don't want any of *those* apples. Apple Tree: Are you hinting my apples aren't what they ought to be? Scarecrow: Oh, no. It's just that she doesn't like little green worms!
Though actually the work of man's hands - or, more properly speaking, the work of his travelling feet, - roads have long since come to seem so much a part of Nature that we have grown to think of them as a feature of the landscape no less natural tha...
I grew up in St. Louis in a tiny house full of large music - Mahalia Jackson and Marian Anderson singing majestically on the stereo, my German-American mother fingering 'The Lost Chord' on the piano as golden light sank through trees, my Palestinian ...
These people have learned not from books, but in the fields, in the wood, on the river bank. Their teachers have been the birds themselves, when they sang to them, the sun when it left a glow of crimson behind it at setting, the very trees, and wild ...
The reader feels as if he is in Chongjin, where starving people ate the bark off trees; or atop Mount Taesong with the elite of Pyongyang, whose existence is a mix of sadism and whimsy; or with the masses who are bombarded day and night with the prop...
When I draw something, I try to build some kind of history into it. Drawing an object that has a certain amount of wear and tear or rust; or a tree that is damaged. I love trying to render not just the object, but what it has been through.
A living tree is a changing, sleeve shape, a wet, thin, bright green creature that survives in the thin layer between heartwood and bark. It stands waiting for light, which it catches in the close-woven sieves of its leaves.
Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree...
The blues is like a planet. It's an enormous topic. You can't ignore the impact that it has had and continues to have on the whole musical culture. It's a tree that everyone is swinging from. Without it, I don't know where I would be. It's indelible ...
It is unclear how much longer people will write on dried and flattened wood. Trees do so much for humans and for our planet that it hardly seems fair to ask them to carry our thoughts as well. From "Life from an RNA World: The Ancestor Within.
Elmcrest CC, in Cedar Rapids, is where it all started when I was growing up. The tree-lined course has a very demanding layout that requires you to be accurate off the tee and avoid a number of well-placed water hazards on some of the holes.
You are so high in the tree. If you jump you will live a full life while falling. You will get married to a hummingbird and raise beautiful part- hummingbirds. You will die of cancer in mid-air. I will not lie. It will be painful. You are a brave lit...
Squinting in the darkness Anya could just make out a strange curving symbol scratched into the bark. Baba Zosia scored a line through it, disfiguring the symbol. Anya felt something in the air change and give, like the forest had let out a breath it ...
Carpe Diem By Edna Stewart Shakespeare, Robert Frost, Walt Whitman did it, why can't I? The words of Horace, his laconic phrase. Does it amuse me or frighten me? Does it rub salt in an old wound? Horace, Shakespeare, Robert Frost and Walt Whitman my ...
The hour of spring was dark at last, sensuous memories of sunlight past, I stood alone in garden bowers and asked the value of my hours. Time was spent or time was tossed, Life was loved and life was lost. I kissed the flesh of tender girls, I heard ...
