Got ants in my pants and I need to dance, so big fine mama, come give me a chance.
[Peace in Syria] is [António Guterres] priority, and of course it's our priority, that's self-evident.
When giants fought, ants were crushed.
Man steps on an ant when he can't catch the fly.
I don't only write about English literature; I also write about chaos theory and. . . ants. I can understand ants.
Before Me you are a slug in the sun. You are privy to a great Becoming and you recognize nothing. You are an ant in the after-birth. It is in your nature to do one thing correctly: before Me you rightly tremble. Fear is not what you owe Me, Lounds, you and the other pismires. You owe Me awe.
Ants are a curious race
There is no need for ants to have the ability to fly
How narrow is the vision that exalts the busyness of the ant above the singing of the grasshopper.
The ant world is a tumult, a noisy world of pheromones being passed back and forth.
The bugs are not like us. The Pseudo-Arachnids aren’t even like spiders. They are arthropods who happen to look like a madman’s conception of a giant intelligent spider, but their organization, psychological and economic, is more like that of ants or termites; they are communal entities, the ultimate dictatorship of the hive.
This is what metaphor is. It is not saying that an ant is an elephant. Perhaps; both are alive. No. Metaphor is saying the ant is an elephant. Now, logically speaking, I know there is a difference. If you put elephants and ants before me, I believe that every time I will correctly identify the elephant and the ant. So metaphor must come from a very different place than that of the logical, intelligent mind. It comes from a place that is very courageous, willing to step out of our preconceived ways of seeing things and open so large that it can see the oneness in an ant and in an elephant.
All that I have accomplished. . . has been by that plodding, patient, persevering process of accretion which builds the ant heap particle by particle, thought by thought, fact by fact.
She watched me with a creepy sort of detached curiosity, as if I were a bug crawling across the sidewalk in front of her. I wondered briefly if she was the ant stomper type.
Kids are curious. Kids are watching ants while adults are stepping on them.
I am always shocked that there are still a handful of defenders of the dubious practice of abstinence, surely the worst idea since chocolate-covered ants.
Albert and I would spend hours and hours looking at them. Cleo had this big magnifying glass on his desk, and we'd find centipedes and grasshoppers and beetles and potato bugs, ants. . . and put them in a jar and look at them. They have the sweetest little faces and the cutest expressions. After we'd looked at them all we wanted to, we'd put them in the yard and let them go on about their business.
A whale out of water is over-run by ants.
Great God of the Ants, thou hast granted victory to thy servants. I appoint thee honorary Colonel.
We are human beings, not ants.