Quotes About Worms

Luther, the hero of Worms, the champion of the sacred rights of conscience, was, in words, the most violent, but in practice, the least intolerant, among the Reformers.

The Midnite Show Red-Wigglers, Night-Crawlers & Other Worms look out into the crapulous moonlight: figures of women cascading through the Sunday night; no beer in sight. I remember the Night-blooming Cereus by Dr. Thornton, Engraver, Blake's patron, it hangs in the hall outside the bedroom swaying hungrily like these giant white goddesses of the dark grotto… there are touring cars and men with large guns singing through the woods behind us.

Our enemies are little worms. I saw them at Munich.

Do ye not comprehend that we are worms, Born to bring forth the angelic butterfly That flieth unto judgment without screen?

The flesh is but a sack of goo, a feast for worms to delve into. Remember, mortal, as you strive, that you, ambitious goo, must also die.

Self-love, self-esteem, judging one's neighbors (even though in little things), a lack of charity for them, and not loving them as ourselves" are like little worms gnawing away at our life with God.

Punitive ghosts like steam-driven tennis courts haunt the apples in my nonexistent orchard. I remember when there were just worms out there and they danced in moonlit cores on warm September nights.

No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth

But here we call it Spring, when a young man's fancy turns, fitfully, lightly, to idling in the sun, to touching in the dark. And the old man's? To worms in their garden box; stepping aside a moment in a poem that will remember, fitfully, who made it and the discord and stammer, and change of heart and catch of breath it sprang from. A bending down lightly to touch the earth.

Then worms shall try That long preserved virginity, And your quaint honor turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place But none, I think, do there embrace.

No longer could I root happily into my mother's company and find comfort in her rounded shape. There was no one to tell me the facts. How much nutrition to pull from the dirt? Would the beetles bring harm? And what of the worms? Friends, foe, or nevermind?

It is a tale that begins, as it will end, in a graveyard where the bones and the spiders and the worms inhabit the cold earth.

Fate of the worms or insects on earth is 100% better than those who are born as Royals.

Slander,Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongueOutvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breathRides on the posting winds and doth belieAll corners of the world.

No longer mourn for me when I am deadThan you shall hear the surly sullen bellGive warning to the world that I am fledFrom this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell.

Of comfort no man speak:Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyesWrite sorrow on the bosom of the earth;Let's choose executors and talk of wills.

No, 'tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world.

Anxiety swarms in the heart like worms infect the whole body.

Hey, my spaghetti's moving!" cried Mr. Twit, poking around in it with his fork. "It's a new kind," Mrs. Twit said, taking a mouthful from her own plate which of course had no worms. "It's called Squiggly Spaghetti. It's delicious. Eat it up while it's nice and hot.

the low sun white and cold, and full of worms. Then a fan of white, gelatinous rays, transparent tubes whose ends mouth the earth. A flat, white opening in the sky, whose light silvered the air, dotted with their shadows. They are the larvae of the sun and will become themselves stars.

Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead to share with the worms that Ã¢â'¬Â¦

Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead to share with the worms that…" Then the darkness took it.

I have no pity! I have no pity! The more worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething, and I grind with greater energy, in proportion to the increase of pain.

have no pity! I have no pity! The more the worms writhe, the more I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething; and I grind with greater energy in proportion to the increase of pain.