The way a child discovers the world constantly replicates the way science began. You start to notice what's around you, and you ge...t very curious about how things work. How things interrelate. It's as simple as seeing a bug that intrigues you. You want to know where it goes at night; who its friends are; what it eats.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The point of the dragonfly's terrible lip, the giant water bug, birdsong, or the beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows,... is not that it all fits together like clockwork--for it doesn't ... but that it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free, finged tangle. Freedom is the world's water and weather, the world's nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: and the creator loves pizzazz.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
War is not a life: it is a situation, One which may neither be ignored nor accepted,... A problem to be met with ambush and stratagem, Enveloped or scattered.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
So every journey that I make Leads me, as in the story he was led,... To some new ambush, to some fresh mistake: So every journey I begin foretells A weariness of daybreak, spread With carrion kisses, carrion farewells.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Remember then our only shape is death When mask and face are nailed apart at last.... Range-finding laughter, and ambush of tears, Machine-gun practice on the heart's desires....LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Up the Rebels, To Hell with the Pope, And God Save--as you prefer--the King or Ireland.... The land of scholars and saints: Scholars and saints my eye, the land of ambush, Purblind manifestoes, never-ending complaints,LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
All round and round does the world lie as in a sharp-shooter's ambush, to pick off the beautiful illusions of youth, by the pitile...ss cracking rifles of the realities of age.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Let Sporus tremble--'What? That thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?... Satire or sense, alas, can Sporus feel, Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?' Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings; Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys:LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »