I am a journalist and, under the modern journalist's code of Olympian objectivity (and total purity of motive), I am absolved of responsibility. We journalists don't have to step on roaches. All we have to do is turn on the kitchen light and watch the critters scurry.
I'm convinced my cockroaches have military training, I set off a roach bomb - they diffused it.
Nobody puts Roach in the corner.
Latins for Republicans. It's like roaches for Raid.
Rats and roaches live by competition under the laws of supply and demand; it is the privilege of human beings to live under the laws of justice and mercy.
People die', she says. 'People tear down houses. But furniture, fine, beautiful furniture, it just goes on and on, surviving everything.' She says, 'Armoires are the cockroaches of our culture.
Cockroaches and socialites are the only things that can stay up all night and eat anything.
Instead, I quietly excused myself and went to the bar, to commune with spirits I know how to relate to.
I leave the human cockroaches to discuss their heroin and child pornography.
We sell our dreams and our potential to escape through that buzz.
I've reduced a lot of the stress in my life. I've gotten rid of a lot of things. The light was turned on and a lot of the cockroaches started spinning. I swept them out the door. And sometimes you just have to throw things out because they carry a certain energy.
... the Kindle is a "roach motel" device: its license terms and DRM ensure that books can check in, but they can't check out.
Of course, like all the informal inhabitants of the University the roaches were a little unusual, but there was something particularly unpleasant about the sound of billions of very small feet hitting the stones in perfect time. Rincewind stepped gingerly over the marching column. The Librarian jumped it. The Luggage, of course, followed them with a noise like someone tapdancing over a bag of crisps.
We declare openly that the Arabs have no right to settle on even one centimeter of Eretz Israel.... Force is all they do or ever will understand. We shall use the ultimate force until the Palestinians come crawling to us on all fours ... When we have settled the land, all the Arabs will be able to do will be to scurry around like drugged roaches in a bottle.
I am a product of a rat and roach infested black ghetto. It is easy for me to rationalize my dealings as a numbers man. I'll defend men today who are involved in it.
Broken, hopeless, headed nowhere Only motivation for what the dealer's supplying That rush, that drug, that dope Those pills, that crumb, that roach Thinkin' I would never do that, not that drug and growing up nobody ever does Until your stuck, lookin' in the mirror like I can't believe what I've become Swore I was goin' to be someone And growing up everyone always does We sell our dreams and our potential To escape through that buzz
WL’s [White Liberals] think all the world’s problems can be fixed without any cost to themselves. We don’t believe that. There’s a lot to be said for sacrifice, remorse, even pity. It’s what separates us from roaches
I am very much out of my element here. There are moments, listening to the conversations going on around me, when I feel I am going to lose my mind. Earlier today, I heard someone say the words, "I felt at one with the divine source of creation." Mary Roach on a conducted tour of Hades. I had to fight the urge to push back my chair and start screaming: STAND BACK! ALL OF YOU! I'VE GOT AN ARTHUR FINDLAY BOX CUTTER! Instead, I quietly excused myself and went to the bar, to commune with spirits I know how to relate to.
Weird. I rang it three times.” – Nekoda “There might be something with out condo.” ‘Other than the fact that it lived under a perpetual dismal cloud and was infested with roaches the size of his fist. It was probably over a hellmouth, too, that didn’t allot for any kind of reception other than two cans joined by a length string.’ – Nick
Bombs fall and wipe out civilization as we know it, two things come up out of the ashes: roaches and F-150s.
And then there was Tick. Brave little Tick, who had flown into the faces of an army of rats to save his baby sister. Tick - who never spoke much. Tick - who shared her food. Tick - who was after all just a roach. Just a roach who had given all the time she had left so that Boots could have more. Gregor pressed Boots's fingers against his lips and felt scalding tears begin to slide down his cheeks. He hadn't cried, not the whole time he'd been down here, and there had been plenty of bad stuff. But somehow Tick's sacrifice had crushed whatever thin shell remained between him and sorrow.
My wife is such a bad cook, if we leave dental floss in the kitchen the roaches hang themselves.
Better a soulless clone... than a souled roach.
We lived in Yorkville, which is located on the East End of Manhattan. It's further east than Hell's Kitchen, and back then it was the kind of place where the roaches and cockroaches were big enough to carry away small children.
They're really aggressive. They're like roaches on bread - you drop some on the floor and, boom, they're on it.
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