Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Clodhoppers. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Clodhoppers Quotes And Sayings by 97 Authors including David Eugene Edwards,Rick Yancey,Kami Garcia,Yosa Buson,Margaret Atwood for you to enjoy and share.
The locust has no king
Just noise and hard language
They talk me over
If you're an insect, then you're a mayfly. Here for a day and then gone.
Think of me as the praying mantis of the supernatural world.
Aren't those the bugs that bite the heads off the males? Link looked skeptical.
Yes. Then they eat them
Standing still at dusk
Listen ... in far distances
The song of froglings!
The cicadas pierce the air with their searing one-note calls; dust eddies across the roads; from the weedy patches at the verges, grasshoppers whir. The leaves of the maples hang from their branches like limp gloves; on the sidewalk my shadow crackles.
CLUN (n.) A leg which has gone to sleep and has to be hauled around after you.
A flat black bug, that is London.
Weaving spiders, come not here, Hence, you long legged spinners, hence! Beetles black, approach not here, worm nor snail, do no offense.
Mosquitoes were using my ankles as filling stations.
chooks. You cannot go away and leave
Flies are the price we pay for summer.
Of all bugs, growing up I just loved the pill bugs. They roll up, you play with them, you wait for them to open up, and then when you touch them they roll up again. I just love that.
Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
The ants are my friends- they're blowing in the wind
That the clematis are climbing the wall
A little roving, solitary thing.
If I have to worry about the ants I crush beneath my feet, I couldn't even walk around
Sadie heard a flurry of wing snap as yellow, orange, and tiger-striped moths flew into the light. Dean stood haloed by moths that pulsed like slips of paper along his shoulders and arms. He lifted each one on his finger, naming them for her.
A constant flickering confetti of butterflies showered the town of Darwin. Designer insects, I think of them now: there was something enormously wasteful, extravagant even, about the profusion of patterns and shapes and brilliant colours.
The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And steer his distant journey through the skies.
These flies were half the size of my fist. They came at you and stuck to you with a single-minded purpose you had to admire. We were hopelessly outnumbered, but we still slapped and kicked and karate-chopped ourselves until we reached an uneasy truce.
loud laughter mixed with the chirp of crickets. A moth hit
No insect hangs its nest on threads as frail as those which will sustain the weight of human vanity
When you can hear a spider walk across the floor, you know it's time to keep your socks on. Thank God for insecticide.
Lindy Hoppers never die - they just swing out.
Spiders - the way they move freaks me out. It's so malevolent.
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.
Who when examining in the cabinet of the entomologist the gay and exotic butterflies, and singular cicadas, will associate with these lifeless objects, the ceaseless harsh music of the latter, and the lazy flight of the former - the sure accompaniments of the still, glowing noonday of the tropics.
worms and bugs. They climbed up the
You know what scares me most?"
"Chipmunks?
I wonder what ants do on rainy days?
I love insects. They are amazing.
Red ants that had a sour farty smell when they were squashed.
Beelzebug n. Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
Boys and girls, And women, that would groan to see a child Pull off an insect's leg, all read of war, The best amusement for our morning meal.
This flour of wifly patience.
What cricket? Grasshopper?
Entomologists have a name for young flies, but it is an ugly name, an insult. Let's not use the word "maggot." Let's use a pretty word. Let's use "hacienda.
I wish these flies would piss off.
Teenagers travel in droves, packs, swarms ... To the librarian, they're a gaggle of geese. To the cook, they're a scourge of locusts. To department stores, they're a big beautiful exaltation of larks ... all lovely and loose and jingly.
Deathwatch. That's a kind of beetle, it buries carrion. I
I'm delirious. Spots are crawling before my eyes."
"Those are spiders.
What kind of maggot grows in the corpse of a day?
Crowds of bees are giddy with clover
Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,
Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,
Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.
A leech that will not quit the skin until sated with blood.
Insects are what neurosis would sound like, if neurosis could make a noise with its nose.
Spider Jockey - spider jockeys are spiders that have a skeleton riding them. They rarely spawn, but if they do, unless you have a lot of arrows and a huge space, you need to run for your life.
Cockroaches, Ari. Humans are like cockroaches." Crag nodded his head, his eyes twinkling.
They're disgusting. Those papery wings and their stupid bug bodies ...
Invisible insects of diabolical activity swarm in this place. I am tickled and twitched all over. Mentally, I have now committed a burglary under the meanest circumstances, and the myrmidons of justice are at my heels.
Approaching us through a haze of dust that overhung the road was a long column of men - a slovenly column that marched irregularly and out of step, so that it had the look of a gigantic centipede whose feet hurt.
At some point, some insect has had sex with a leaf.
I always like jumping spiders. They're just so darn cute.
Flies are busiest about leane horses.
Spiders so large they appear to be wearing the pelts of small mammals.
And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.
My enemies are worms, cool days, and most of all woodchucks.
In summer the empire of insects spreads.
What are they called? Sprackles, shakums, edible sequins, glossy sugar deedeebobs, I don't know. Instead of sprinkling them on a cookie, I sprinkle them on Angel de la Guarda.
Trying their wings once more in hopeless flight: Blind moths against the wires of window screens.
Anything. Anything for a fix of light.
X. J. Kennedy, "Street Moths," The Lords of Misrule
There is more scholarly work on the life-habits of the dung fly than on existential risks [to humanity].
Pigeon she strut on the rooftop
Cockroach he strut on the sink
My baby strut down to Jerusalem
Where blood is the favorite drink
He had no problem with flies or bugs or beetles, even creepy ones like earwigs and cockroaches...Six legs were fine, but eight were alien and unnatural.
'The same number of legs as four fully-grown serial killers!
The Venus flytrap, a devouring organism, aptly named for the goddess of love.
Stray bits of Lego edged fitfully about among lower strata, like bright rectilinear beetles.
A detestable, viscous place populated by slugs
Lemmings with suicide vests. It's kind of an insult to lemmings to call them lemmings, so they'd have to be more than just a lemming, because jumping to your death is not enough.
To insects--sensual lust.
God save me ere I have any babies. They are grabby, clingy creatures who steal your figure and always want a ribbon or a wooden sword. And who sometimes make you die bearing them.
The clouds, - the only birds that never sleep.
Bone-white moths drop one by one to cover cuts on Odette's legs and obscure mud-water splotches patterning her skirts. They rest at the bases of her fingers like heaving white jewels on rings lighter than air.
A quiet room with cockroaches peeping out like prunes from every corner ...
My mind is full of hornets.
A bush-warbler,
Coming to the verandah-edge,
Left its droppings
On the rice-cakes.
They can fly and they howl, they slaughter depression and headaches, they daydream like gangbanging daffodils, orchids and cherry blossoms grasping mauve toffee clouds, they breastfeed laughter.
Big giant insect thing holding me several hundred feet in the air? What's there to be nervous about?
Creep, clobber, squawk. Repeat.
Flies trouble us not by their strength but by their multitudes.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND
Insects are my secret fear. That's what terrifies me more than anything - insects.
Outside our small safe place flies mystery.
I pulled the Net chip out of my head, cutting her off. The chip was long and white, with many metal legs; cupped in my hand, it looked like some pale, crawling thing that you'd find living under a rock. Vermin.
I feel the fluttering
of dragonflies - summer creatures
that have no use for words.
On one part of the footpath where a thin trickle of water from a small spring kept it damp, I found ... a swarm of ... small, blue butterflies drinking the water. ... I only went that way on sunny days and each time the dense, blue swarm was there, and each time it was a holiday.
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
One day we found them. They must of been holding a gook convention or something, cause it seem like the same sort of deal as when you step on a anthill and they all come swarming around.
Flies are the dead man's revenge.
Tell me a story,' demanded Fireflyer.
'Why? Do you eat them, too, then?'
'Only the ohs and ayes and ees and oos. The Kays are too spikey and the zeds are too buzzzy and the ones with the dots get stuck in your teeth and the esses sometimes slide down inside your vest and tickle.
Australopithecus.
A queer fellow and a jolly fellow is the grasshopper. Up the mountains he comes on excursions, how high I don't know, but at least as far and high as Yosemite tourists.
Armadillos that, in some cases, grew to be as large as Fiat 500s.
The flies have conquered the flypaper.
Each new Clarice, compact as a living body with its smells and its breath, shows off, like a gem, what remains of the ancient Clarices, fragmentary and dead.
These Atlantikoinonia. They're human? (Acheron)
What else would they be? Turnips? (Tory)
Butterflies are always following me, everywhere I go.
Creatures that hang themselves up like an old rag, to sleep;
And disgustingly upside down.
Hanging upside down like rows of disgusting old rags
And grinning in their sleep.
Bats!
Amid thy desert-walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
What's that in the mirror, or the corner of your eye, What's that footstep following but never passing by. Perhaps their all just waiting, Perhaps when we're all dead out they'll come a-slithering from underneath the bed
Flatterers are the worst kind of enemies.
[Lat., Pessimum genus inimicorum laudantes.]