Quotes About Insects

if not for the moths. Because vacuum tubes glowed like lightbulbs, they attracted insects, requiring regular

Angels are just pretty insects.

Animals that have more defense forms are also the most sensitive to attack, such as the turtles on their hulls or tracks, that when they leave their cocoons, they become one of the most beautiful insects. Such are human beings. They spend the rest of their lives in fear. Close their hearts made alveoli to the world in order to protect themselves and hoping that one day someone might free them.

Can we ever hope for a Natural History with colored plates that will show us how the world appears to the faceted eyes of a dragon-fly?

Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!

Papilio stomachus : criaturas frágiles y vulnerables a las heladas y la traición»

There was malachite green, and red; the intense red known as worm scarlet—tola'at shani in Hebrew—extracted from tree-dwelling insects, crushed up and boiled in lye. Later, when alchemists learned how to make a similar red from sulfur and mercury, they still named the color "little worm"—vermiculum. Some things don't change: we call it vermilion even today.

I am better in health, avoiding all fermented liquors, and drinking nothing but London water, with a million insects in every drop. He who drinks a tumbler of London water has literally in his stomach more animated beings than there are men, women, and children on the face of the globe.

I'd rather have ten snakes in the house than one fly.

The lovely flowers embarrass me, They make me regret I am not a bee –

I'm a fly fisherman. I make flies. They're imitations of insects at different stages in their development.

Some have supposed that the mosquito is of a devout turn, and never will partake of a meal without first saying grace. The devotions of some men are but a preface to blood-sucking.

I do not see why men sheould be so proud insects have the more ancient lineage according to the scientists insects were insects when man was only a burbling whatisit.

This man is the bee's knees, Arthur, he is the wasp's nipples. He is, I would go so far as to say, the entire set of erogenous zones of every major flying insect of the Western world.

I study the lives on a leaf: the littleSleepers, numb nudgers in cold dimensions,Beetles in caves, newts, stone-deaf fishes,Lice tethered to long limp subterranean weeds,Squirmers in bogs,And bacterial creepers.

we were both joyous, not because of drinking so much wine, but because of the excessive happiness that we had inward. we both had understood, in our own ways, that we were two insects with short life spans, sticked for good onto the earth's crust, that we found a nice place by the sea behind some canes and gas cans, that we cuddled tightly, that in front of us we had good things and food, and inside of us we had peace, love and trust.

we were both joyous, not because of drinking so much wine, but because of the excessive happines that we had inward. we both had understood, in our own ways, that we were two insects with short life spans, sticked for good onto the earth's crust, that we found a nice place by the sea behind some canes and gas cans, that we cuddled tightly, that in front of us we had good things and food, and inside of us we had peace, love and trust.

The past lived on in her hands, the way they'd shaken when Mitzi took her first DAT into a pitch. The memory lived as pain in her scalp, the old tug of her hair. She'd such long hair back then. High school-long hair, she'd pulled it tight, knotting it into a French braid she'd pinned down. Her French braid pinned to the back of her head, pinned as cruelly as any butterfly or scarab beetle pinned to the board in freshman-year Biology of Insects.

All around us, erosion and insects are just chewing up the world, never mind people and pollution. Everything biodegrades with or without you pushing.

Earth is home to more than twelve thousand species of ants. If you weighed all the ants and all the humans, the ants would weigh more.

A chill crawls up Miriam's spine. A parade of baby spiders.

the sound of it nearly lost to the zipper-unzipping buzz of the cicadas.

the scent of sweet cherry had attracted hundreds of ants. They were crawling over it and into it, many drowning for their greed.

If you stand a lantern under a tree every insect in the forest creeps up to it—a curious assembly, since though they scramble and swing and knock their heads against the glass, they seem to have no purpose—something senseless inspires them.