100 buckets of bits on the bus 100 buckets of bits Take one down, short it to ground FF buckets of bits on the bus FF buckets of bits on the bus FF buckets of bits Take one down, short it to ground FE buckets of bits on the bus ad infinitum...
99 blocks of crud on the disk, 99 blocks of crud! You patch a bug, and dump it again: 100 blocks of crud on the disk! 100 blocks of crud on the disk, 100 blocks of crud! You patch a bug, and dump it again: 101 blocks of crud on the disk! ...
A bit of talcum Is always walcum\n-- Ogden Nash
A box without hinges, key, or lid, Yet golden treasure inside is hid.\n-- J.R.R. Tolkien
A bunch of the boys were whooping it in the Malemute saloon; The kid that handles the music box was hitting a jag-time tune; Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew, And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.\n-- Robert W. Service
A cousin of mine once said about money, money is always there but the pockets change; it is not in the same pockets after a change, and that is all there is to say about money.\n-- Gertrude Stein
A little word of doubtful number, A foe to rest and peaceful slumber. If you add an "s" to this, Great is the metamorphosis. Plural is plural now no more, And sweet what bitter was before. What am I?
A man is like a rusty wheel on a rusty cart, He sings his song as he rattles along and then he falls apart.\n-- Richard Thompson
A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.\n-- James Joyce, "Ulysses"
A man who fishes for marlin in ponds will put his money in Etruscan bonds.
A mighty creature is the germ, Though smaller than the pachyderm. His customary dwelling place Is deep within the human race. His childish pride he often pleases By giving people strange diseases. Do you, my poppet, feel infirm? You probably contain a germ.\n-- Ogden Nash
A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all Heaven in a rage.\n-- Blake
A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the lies you can invent.\n-- William Blake
After all my erstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need we say it was not love, Just because it perished?\n-- Edna St. Vincent Millay
Ah, but a man's grasp should exceed his reach, Or what's a heaven for ?\n-- Robert Browning, "Andrea del Sarto"
Ah, but the choice of dreams to live, there's the rub. For all dreams are not equal, some exit to nightmare most end with the dreamer But at least one must be lived ... and died.
Ah, my friends, from the prison, they ask unto me, "How good, how good does it feel to be free?" And I answer them most mysteriously: "Are birds free from the chains of the sky-way?"\n-- Bob Dylan
Aleph-null bottles of beer on the wall, Aleph-null bottles of beer, You take one down, and pass it around, Aleph-null bottles of beer on the wall.
Alive without breath, As cold as death; Never thirsty, ever drinking, All in mail never clinking.
All my friends are getting married, Yes, they're all growing old, They're all staying home on the weekend, They're all doing what they're told.
All who joy would win Must share it -- Happiness was born a twin.\n-- Lord Byron
An eye in a blue face Saw an eye in a green face. "That eye is like this eye" Said the first eye, "But in low place, Not in high place."
And as we stand on the edge of darkness Let our chant fill the void That others may know\nIn the land of the night\nThe ship of the sun\nIs drawn by\nThe grateful dead.\n-- Tibetan "Book of the Dead," ca. 4000 BC.
And here I wait so patiently Waiting to find out what price You have to pay to get out of Going thru all of these things twice\n-- Dylan, "Memphis Blues Again"
And I heard Jeff exclaim, As they strolled out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all -- You take credit cards, right?"\n-- "Outsiders" comic
And if California slides into the ocean, Like the mystics and statistics say it will. I predict this motel will be standing, Until I've paid my bill.\n-- Warren Zevon, "Desperados Under the Eaves"
And if sometime, somewhere, someone asketh thee, "Who kilt thee?", tell them it 'twas the Doones of Bagworthy!
And if you wonder, What I am doing, As I am heading for the sink. I am spitting out all the bitterness, Along with half of my last drink.
And in the heartbreak years that lie ahead, Be true to yourself and the Grateful Dead.\n-- Joan Baez
And miles to go before I sleep.\n-- Robert Frost
And so it was, later, As the miller told his tale, That her face, at first just ghostly, Turned a whiter shade of pale.\n-- Procol Harum
And the silence came surging softly backwards When the plunging hooves were gone...\n-- Walter de La Mare, "The Listeners"
And this is good old Boston, The home of the bean and the cod, Where the Lowells talk only to Cabots, And the Cabots talk only to God.
And we heard him exclaim As he started to roam: "I'm a hologram, kids, please don't try this at home!'"\n-- Bob Violence
And... What in the world ever became of Sweet Jane?\nShe's lost her sparkle, you see she isn't the same.\nLivin' on reds, vitamin C, and cocaine\nAll a friend can say is "Ain't it a shame?"\n-- The Grateful Dead
Angels we have heard on High Tell us to go out and Buy.\n-- Tom Lehrer
April is the cruellest month...\n-- Thomas Stearns Eliot
Are there those in the land of the brave Who can tell me how I should behave\nWhen I am disgraced\nBecause I erased\nA file I intended to save?
As for the women, though we scorn and flout 'em, We may live with, but cannot live without 'em.\n-- Frederic Reynolds
As I was going up Punch Card Hill,\nFeeling worse and worser, There I met a C.R.T.\nAnd it drop't me a cursor. C.R.T., C.R.T.,\nPhosphors light on you! If I had fifty hours a day\nI'd spend them all at you.\n-- Uncle Colonel's Cursory Rhymes
As I was passing Project MAC, I met a Quux with seven hacks. Every hack had seven bugs; Every bug had seven manifestations; Every manifestation had seven symptoms. Symptoms, manifestations, bugs, and hacks, How many losses at Project MAC?
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found I've got a little list -- I've got a little list Of society offenders who might well be underground And who never would be missed -- who never would be missed.\n-- Koko, "The Mikado"
At times discretion should be thrown aside, and with the foolish we should play the fool.\n-- Menander
Avoid Quiet and Placid persons unless you are in Need of Sleep.\n-- National Lampoon, "Deteriorata"
Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most Souls would scarcely get your Feet wet.  Fall not in Love, therefore: it will stick to your face.\n-- National Lampoon, "Deteriorata"
Be valiant, but not too venturous. Let thy attire be comely, but not costly.\n-- John Lyly
Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.\n-- John Keats
Because I do, Because I do not hope, Because I do not hope to survive Injustice from the Palace, death from the air, Because I do, only do, I continue...\n-- T.S. Pynchon
Beneath this stone lies Murphy, They buried him today, He lived the life of Riley, While Riley was away.
Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow\n-- T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Man" [Quoted in "VMS Internals and Data Structures", V4.4, when referring to system service dispatching.]
Big M, Little M, many mumbling mice Are making midnight music in the moonlight, Mighty nice!
Bit off more than my mind could chew, Shower or suicide, what do I do?\n-- Julie Brown, "Will I Make it Through the Eighties?"
But has any little atom,\nWhile a-sittin' and a-splittin', Ever stopped to think or CARE\nThat E = m c**2 ?
But I was there and I saw what you did, I saw it with my own two eyes. So you can wipe off that grin; I know where you've been-- It's all been a pack of lies!
But scientists, who ought to know Assure us that it must be so. Oh, let us never, never doubt What nobody is sure about.\n-- Hilaire Belloc
But soft you, the fair Ophelia|Ope not thy ponderous and marble jaws, But get thee to a nunnery -- go!\n-- Mark "The Bard" Twain
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain For promised joy.\n-- Robert Burns, "To a Mouse", 1785
By the time you swear you're his, shivering and sighing and he vows his passion is infinite, undying -- Lady, make a note of this: One of you is lying.\n-- Dorothy Parker, "Unfortunate Coincidence"
By the yard, life is hard. By the inch, it's a cinch.
Calm down, it's only ones and zeroes, Calm down, it's only bits and bytes, Calm down, and speak to me in English, Please realize that I'm not one of your computerites.
Cancel me not -- for what then shall remain? Abscissas, some mantissas, modules, modes, A root or two, a torus and a node: The inverse of my verse, a null domain.\n-- Stanislaw Lem, "Cyberiad"
Candy Is dandy But liquor Is quicker.\n-- Ogden Nash, "Reflections on Ice-Breaking" Fortune updates the great quotes: #53. Candy is dandy; but liquor is quicker, and sex won't rot your teeth.
Catch a wave and you're sitting on top of the world.\n-- The Beach Boys
Certainly there are things in life that money can't buy, But it's very funny -- did you ever try buying them without money?\n-- Ogden Nash
Charlie was a chemist, But Charlie is no more. For what he thought was H2O, Was H2SO4.
Children aren't happy without something to ignore, And that's what parents were created for.\n-- Ogden Nash
Chivalry, Schmivalry!\nRoger the thief has a\nmethod he uses for\nsneaky attacks: Folks who are reading are\nCharacteristically\nAlways Forgetting to\nGuard their own bac ...
Come fill the cup and in the fire of spring Your winter garment of repentence fling. The bird of time has but a little way To flutter -- and the bird is on the wing.\n-- Omar Khayyam
Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.\n-- John Donne
Come, every frustum longs to be a cone, And every vector dreams of matrices. Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze: It whispers of a more ergodic zone.\n-- Stanislaw Lem, "Cyberiad"
Come, landlord, fill the flowing bowl until it does run over, Tonight we will all merry be -- tomorrow we'll get sober.\n-- John Fletcher, "The Bloody Brother", II, 2
Come, muse, let us sing of rats!\n-- From a poem by James Grainger, 1721-1767
Coming to Stores Near You|101 Grammatically Correct Popular Tunes Featuring:\n(You Aren't Anything but a) Hound Dog It Doesn't Mean a Thing If It Hasn't Got That Swing I'm Not Misbehaving And A Whole Lot More...
Confusion will be my epitaph as I walk a cracked and broken path If we make it we can all sit back and laugh but I fear that tomorrow we'll be crying.\n-- King Crimson, "In the Court of the Crimson King"
Death comes on every passing breeze, He lurks in every flower; Each season has its own disease, Its peril -- every hour.\n--Reginald Heber
Declared guilty... of displaying feelings of an almost human nature.\n-- Pink Floyd, "The Wall"
Despising machines to a man, The Luddites joined up with the Klan,\nAnd ride out by night\nIn a sheeting of white To lynch all the robots they can.\n-- C. M. and G. A. Maxson
Didja' ever have to make up your mind, Pick up on one and leave the other behind, It's not often easy, and it's not often kind, Didja' ever have to make up your mind?\n-- Lovin' Spoonful
Disillusioned words like bullets bark, As human gods aim for their mark, Make everything from toy guns that spark To flesh-colored christs that glow in the dark. It's easy to see without looking too far That not much is really sacred.\n-- Bob Dylan
Do your otters do the shimmy? Do they like to shake their tails? Do your wombats sleep in tophats? Is your garden full of snails?
Don't be concerned, it will not harm you, It's only me pursuing something I'm not sure of, Across my dreams, with neptive wonder, I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love.
Don't lose Your head To gain a minute You need your head Your brains are in it.\n-- Burma Shave
Don't wake me up too soon... Gonna take a ride across the moon... You and me.
Drink and dance and laugh and lie Love, the reeling midnight through For tomorrow we shall die! (But, alas, we never do.)\n-- Dorothy Parker, "The Flaw in Paganism"
Easy come and easy go,\nsome call me easy money, Sometimes life is full of laughs,\nand sometimes it ain't funny You may think that I'm a fool\nand sometimes that is true, But I'm goin' to heaven in a flash of fire,\nwith or without you.\n-- Hoyt Axton
Endless the world's turn, endless the sun's spinning Endless the quest; I turn again, back to my own beginning, And here, find rest.
Euch ist bekannt, was wir beduerfen; Wir wollen stark Getraenke schluerfen.\n-- Goethe, "Faust"
Even a man who is pure at heart, And says his prayers at night Can become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms, And the moon is full and bright.\n-- The Wolf Man, 1941
Every love's the love before In a duller dress.\n-- Dorothy Parker, "Summary"
Every man is as God made him, ay, and often worse.\n-- Miguel de Cervantes
Every night my prayers I say,\nAnd get my dinner every day; And every day that I've been good,\nI get an orange after food. The child that is not clean and neat,\nWith lots of toys and things to eat, He is a naughty child, I'm sure--\nOr else his dear papa is poor.\n-- Robert Louis Stevenson
Everywhere you go you'll see them searching, Everywhere you turn you'll feel the pain, Everyone is looking for the answer, Well look again.\n-- Moody Blues, "Lost in a Lost World"
F:	When into a room I plunge, I\nSometimes find some VIOLET FUNGI.\nThen I linger, darkly brooding\nOn the poison they're exuding.\n-- The Roguelet's ABC
Families, when a child is born Want it to be intelligent. I, through intelligence, Having wrecked my whole life, Only hope the baby will prove Ignorant and stupid. Then he will crown a tranquil life By becoming a Cabinet Minister\n-- Su Tung-p'o
Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for the rest, Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!\n-- Stevenson, "Treasure Island"
Fifty flippant frogs Walked by on flippered feet And with their slime they made the time Unnaturally fleet.
Finality is death. Perfection is finality. Nothing is perfect. There are lumps in it.
Flying saucers on occasion\nShow themselves to human eyes. Aliens fume, put off invasion\nWhile they brand these tales as lies.
For gin, in cruel Sober truth, Supplies the fuel For flaming youth.\n-- Noel Coward
"Force is but might," the teacher said-- "That definition's just." The boy said naught but thought instead, Remembering his pounded head: "Force is not might but must!"
From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving, Whatever gods may be, That no life lives forever, That dead men rise up never, That even the weariest river winds somewhere safe to sea.\n-- Swinburne
Get in touch with your feelings of hostility against the dying light.\n-- Dylan Thomas [paraphrased periphrastically]
Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe, Bold I can meet -- perhaps may turn his blow! But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath can send, Save me, oh save me from the candid friend.\n-- George Canning
Give me your students, your secretaries, Your huddled writers yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your Selectric III's. Give these, the homeless, typist-tossed to me. I lift my disk beside the processor.\n-- Inscription on a Word Processor
Go placidly amid the noise and waste, and remember what value there may be in owning a piece thereof.\n-- National Lampoon, "Deteriorata"
Graphics blind the eyes. Audio files deafen the ear. Mouse clicks numb the fingers. Heuristics weaken the mind. Options wither the heart. The Guru observes the net but trusts his inner vision. He allows things to come and go. His heart is as open as the ether.
H:	If a 'GOBLIN (HOB) waylays you,\nSlice him up before he slays you.\nNothing makes you look a slob\nLike running from a HOB'LIN (GOB).\n-- The Roguelet's ABC
Half a bee, philosophically, must ipso facto half not be. But half the bee has got to be, vis-a-vis its entity.  See? But can a bee be said to be or not to be an entire bee, When half the bee is not a bee, due to some ancient injury?
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way.\n-- Pink Floyd
Hark, the Herald Tribune sings, Advertising wondrous things. Angels we have heard on High Tell us to go out and Buy.\n-- Tom Lehrer
Have you ever felt like a wounded cow halfway between an oven and a pasture? walking in a trance toward a pregnant\nseventeen-year-old housewife's\ntwo-day-old cookbook?\n-- Richard Brautigan
Have you seen how Sonny's burning, Like some bright erotic star, He lights up the proceedings, And raises the temperature.\n-- The Birthday Party, "Sonny's Burning"
He thought he saw an albatross That fluttered 'round the lamp. He looked again and saw it was A penny postage stamp. "You'd best be getting home," he said, "The nights are rather damp."
He who invents adages for others to peruse takes along rowboat when going on cruise.
He who loses, wins the race, And parallel lines meet in space.\n-- John Boyd, "Last Starship from Earth"
He's been like a father to me, He's the only DJ you can get after three, I'm an all-night musician in a rock and roll band, And why he don't like me I don't understand.\n-- The Byrds
Her locks an ancient lady gave Her loving husband's life to save; And men -- they honored so the dame -- Upon some stars bestowed her name. But to our modern married fair, Who'd give their lords to save their hair, No stellar recognition's given. There are not stars enough in heaven.
Here I am again right where I know I shouldn't be I've been caught inside this trap too many times I must've walked these steps and said these words a\nthousand times before It seems like I know everybody's lines.\n-- David Bromberg, "How Late'll You Play 'Til?"
HERE LIES LESTER MOORE SHOT 4 TIMES WITH A .44 NO LES NO MOORE\n-- tombstone, in Tombstone, AZ
Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo! Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!\n-- J. R. R. Tolkien
