The net of law is spread so wide, No sinner from its sweep may hide. Its meshes are so fine and strong, They take in every child of wrong. O wondrous web of mystery! Big fish alone escape from thee!\n-- James Jeffrey Roche
The night passes quickly when you're asleep But I'm out shufflin' for something to eat ... Breakfast at the Egg House, Like the waffle on the griddle, I'm burnt around the edges, But I'm tender in the middle.\n-- Adrian Belew
The one L lama, he's a priest The two L llama, he's a beast And I will bet my silk pyjama There isn't any three L lllama.\n-- O. Nash, to which a fire chief replied that occasionally his department responded to something like a "three L lllama."
The Pig, if I am not mistaken, Gives us ham and pork and Bacon. Let others think his heart is big, I think it stupid of the Pig.\n-- Ogden Nash
The Preacher, the Politician, the Teacher,\nWere each of them once a kiddie. A child, indeed, is a wonderful creature.\nDo I want one?  God Forbiddie!\n-- Ogden Nash
The Rabbits				The Cow Here is a verse about rabbits		The cow is of the bovine ilk; That doesn't mention their habits.	One end is moo, the other, milk.\n-- Ogden Nash
The rain it raineth on the just\nAnd also on the unjust fella, But chiefly on the just, because\nThe unjust steals the just's umbrella.\n-- Lord Bowen
The rhino is a homely beast, For human eyes he's not a feast. Farewell, farewell, you old rhinoceros, I'll stare at something less prepoceros.\n-- Ogden Nash
The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then?  I cannot say.\n-- J. R. R. Tolkien
The street preacher looked so baffled When I asked him why he dressed With forty pounds of headlines Stapled to his chest. But he cursed me when I proved to him I said, "Not even you can hide. You see, you're just like me. I hope you're satisfied."\n-- Bob Dylan
The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright -- And this was very odd, because it was The middle of the night.\n-- Lewis Carroll, "Through the Looking Glass"
The Thought Police are here.  They've come To put you under cardiac arrest. And as they drag you through the door They tell you that you've failed the test.\n-- Buggles, "Living in the Plastic Age"
The thrill is here, but it won't last long You'd better have your fun before it moves along...
The trouble with a kitten is that When it grows up, it's always a cat\n-- Ogden Nash.
The trouble with you Is the trouble with me. Got two good eyes But we still don't see.\n-- Robert Hunter, "Workingman's Dead"
The truth you speak has no past and no future. It is, and that's all it needs to be.
The turtle lives 'twixt plated decks Which practically conceal its sex. I think it clever of the turtle In such a fix to be so fertile.\n-- Ogden Nash
The weather is here, I wish you were beautiful. My thoughts aren't too clear, but don't run away. My girlfriend's a bore; my job is too dutiful. Hell nobody's perfect, would you like to play? I feel together today!\n-- Jimmy Buffet, "Coconut Telegraph"
The wind doth taste so bitter sweet,\nLike Jaspar wine and sugar, It must have blown through someone's feet,\nLike those of Caspar Weinberger.\n-- P. Opus
The wombat lives across the seas, Among the far Antipodes. He may exist on nuts and berries, Or then again, on missionaries; His distant habitat precludes Conclusive knowledge of his moods. But I would not engage the wombat In any form of mortal combat.\n-- "The Wombat"
The young lady had an unusual list, Linked in part to a structural weakness. She set no preconditions.
Then here's to the City of Boston, The town of the cries and the groans. Where the Cabots can't see the Kabotschniks, And the Lowells won't speak to the Cohns.\n-- Franklin Pierce Adams
There are bad times just around the corner, There are dark clouds hurtling through the sky\nAnd it's no good whining\nAbout a silver lining For we know from experience that they won't roll by...\n-- Noel Coward
There is in certain living souls A quality of loneliness unspeakable, So great it must be shared As company is shared by lesser beings. Such a loneliness is mine; so know by this That in immensity There is one lonelier than you.
There is no point in waiting. The train stopped running years ago. All the schedules, the brochures, The bright-colored posters full of lies, Promise rides to a distant country That no longer exists.
There is something in the pang of change More than the heart can bear, Unhappiness remembering happiness.\n-- Euripides
There was a little girl Who had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good, she was very, very good And when she was bad, she was very, very popular.\n-- Max Miller, "The Max Miller Blue Book"
They went rushing down that freeway, Messed around and got lost. They didn't care... they were just dying to get off, And it was life in the fast lane.\n-- Eagles, "Life in the Fast Lane"
They wouldn't listen to the fact that I was a genius, The man said "We got all that we can use", So I've got those steadily-depressin', low-down, mind-messin', Working-at-the-car-wash blues.\n-- Jim Croce
"Thirty days hath Septober, April, June, and no wonder. all the rest have peanut butter except my father who wears red suspenders."
Thirty white horses on a red hill, First they champ, Then they stamp, Then they stand still.\n-- Tolkien
This ae nighte, this ae nighte, Everye nighte and alle, Fire and sleet and candlelyte, And Christe receive thy saule.\n-- The Lykewake Dirge
This here's the wattle, The emblem of our land. You can stick it in a bottle; You can hold it in your hand. Amen!\n-- Monty Python
This is for all ill-treated fellows\nUnborn and unbegot, For them to read when they're in trouble\nAnd I am not.\n-- A. E. Housman
This is the story of the bee Whose sex is very hard to see You cannot tell the he from the she But she can tell, and so can he The little bee is never still She has no time to take the pill And that is why, in times like these There are so many sons of bees.
This is the way the world ends, This is the way the world ends, This is the way the world ends, Not with a bang but with a whimper.\n-- T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"
This land is my land, and only my land, I've got a shotgun, and you ain't got one, If you don't get off, I'll blow your head off, This land is private property.\n-- Apologies to Woody Guthrie
This thing all things devours|Birds, beasts, trees, flowers; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; Slays king, ruins town, And beats high mountain down.
Tiger got to hunt, Bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder, "Why, why, why?" Tiger got to sleep, Bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand.\n-- The Books of Bokonon
Tim and I a hunting went We found three damsels in a tent, As they were three, and we were two, I bucked one and Timbuktu.\n-- the only known poem using the word "Timbuktu"
Time goes, you say? Ah no! Time stays, *we* go.\n-- Austin Dobson
Time washes clean Love's wounds unseen. That's what someone told me; But I don't know what it means.\n-- Linda Ronstadt, "Long Long Time"
'Tis the dream of each programmer, Before his life is done, To write three lines of APL, And make the damn things run.
To A Quick Young Fox Why jog exquisite bulk, fond crazy vamp, Daft buxom jonquil, zephyr's gawky vice? Guy fed by work, quiz Jove's xanthic lamp-- Zow! Qualms by deja vu gyp fox-kin thrice.\n-- Lazy Dog
to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle any human being can fight and never stop fighting.\n-- e.e. cummings
To err is human, To purr feline.\n-- Robert Byrne
To err is human, to purr feline. To err is human, two curs canine. To err is human, to moo bovine.
To stand and be still, At the Birkenhead drill, Is a damned tough bullet to chew.\n-- Rudyard Kipling
To whom the mornings are like nights, What must the midnights be!\n-- Emily Dickinson (on hacking?)
Tobacco is a filthy weed, That from the devil does proceed; It drains your purse, it burns your clothes, And makes a chimney of your nose.\n-- B. Waterhouse
Too cool to calypso, Too tough to tango, Too weird to watusi\n-- The Only Ones
Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.
Twas FORTRAN as the doloop goes\nDid logzerneg the ifthen block All kludgy were the function flows\nAnd subroutines adhoc. Beware the runtime-bug my friend\nsqurooneg, the false goto Beware the infiniteloop\nAnd shun the inprectoo.\n-- "OUTCONERR," to the scheme of "Jabberwocky"
'Twas midnight, and the UNIX hacks Did gyre and gimble in their cave All mimsy was the CS-VAX And Cory raths outgrabe. "Beware the software rot, my son! The faults that bite, the jobs that thrash! Beware the broken pipe, and shun The frumious system crash!"
Twenty two thousand days. Twenty two thousand days. It's not a lot. It's all you've got. Twenty two thousand days.\n-- Moody Blues, "Twenty Two Thousand Days"
Two men looked out from the prison bars,\nOne saw mud--\nThe other saw stars. Now let me get this right: two prisoners are looking out the window. While one of them was looking at all the mud -- the other one got hit in the head.
U:	There's a U -- a Unicorn!\nRun right up and rub its horn.\nLook at all those points you're losing!\nUMBER HULKS are so confusing.\n-- The Roguelet's ABC
Under the wide and heavy VAX Dig my grave and let me relax Long have I lived, and many my hacks And I lay me down with a will. These be the words that tell the way: "Here he lies who piped 64K, Brought down the machine for nearly a day, And Rogue playing to an awful standstill."
Up against the net, redneck mother, Mother who has raised your son so well; He's seventeen and hackin' on a Macintosh, Flaming spelling errors and raisin' hell...
Voiceless it cries, Wingless flutters, Toothless bites, Mouthless mutters.
Volcanoes have a grandeur that is grim And earthquakes only terrify the dolts, And to him who's scientific There is nothing that's terrific In the pattern of a flight of thunderbolts!\n-- W.S. Gilbert, "The Mikado"
Wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us.\n-- R. Burns
Wake now my merry lads!  Wake and hear me calling! Warm now be heart and limb!  The cold stone is fallen; Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken. Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is open!\n-- J. R. R. Tolkien
We don't need no education, we don't need no thought control.\n-- Pink Floyd
We gotta get out of this place, If it's the last thing we ever do.\n-- The Animals
we will invent new lullabies, new songs, new acts of love, we will cry over things we used to laugh & our new wisdom will bring tears to eyes of gentle creatures from other planets who were afraid of us till then & in the end a summer with wild winds & new friends will be.
We wish you a Hare Krishna We wish you a Hare Krishna We wish you a Hare Krishna And a Sun Myung Moon!\n-- Maxwell Smart
We're happy little Vegemites,\nAs bright as bright can be. We all all enjoy our Vegemite\nFor breakfast, lunch and tea.
Well, some take delight in the carriages a-rolling, And some take delight in the hurling and the bowling, But I take delight in the juice of the barley, And courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early.
What awful irony is this? We are as gods, but know it not.
What did ya do with your burden and your cross? Did you carry it yourself or did you cry? You and I know that a burden and a cross, Can only be carried on one man's back.\n-- Louden Wainwright III
What has roots as nobody sees, Is taller than trees, Up, up it goes, And yet never grows?
What pains others pleasures me, At home am I in Lisp or C; There i couch in ecstasy, 'Til debugger's poke i flee, Into kernel memory. In system space, system space, there shall i fare-- Inside of a VAX on a silicon square.
What we Are is God's gift to us. What we Become is our gift to God.
What's love but a second-hand emotion?\n-- Tina Turner
When a lion meets another with a louder roar, the first lion thinks the last a bore.\n-- G.B. Shaw
When in panic, fear and doubt, Drink in barrels, eat, and shout.
When in trouble or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.
When license fees are too high, users do things by hand. When the management is too intrusive, users lose their spirit. Hack for the user's benefit. Trust them; leave them alone.
When love is gone, there's always justice. And when justice is gone, there's always force. And when force is gone, there's always Mom. Hi, Mom!\n-- Laurie Anderson
When oxygen Tech played Hydrogen U. The Game had just begun, when Hydrogen scored two fast points And Oxygen still had none Then Oxygen scored a single goal And thus it did remain, At Hydrogen 2 and Oxygen 1 Called because of rain.
When the leaders speak of peace The common folk know That war is coming When the leaders curse war The mobilization order is already written out. Every day, to earn my daily bread I go to the market where lies are bought Hopefully I take my place among the sellers.\n-- Bertolt Brecht, "Hollywood"
When you find yourself in danger, When you're threatened by a stranger, When it looks like you will take a lickin'... There is one thing you should learn, When there is no one else to turn to,\nCaaaall for Super Chicken!!    (**bwuck-bwuck-bwuck-bwuck**)\nCaaaall for Super Chicken!!
When you meet a master swordsman, show him your sword. When you meet a man who is not a poet, do not show him your poem.\n-- Rinzai, ninth century Zen master
When you're a Yup You're a Yup all the way From your first slice of Brie To your last Cabernet. When you're a Yup You're not just a dreamer You're making things happen You're driving a Beamer.
When you're away, I'm restless, lonely, Wretched, bored, dejected; only Here's the rub, my darling dear I feel the same when you are near.\n-- Samuel Hoffenstein, "When You're Away"
WHERE CAN THE MATTER BE\nOh, dear, where can the matter be\nWhen it's converted to energy?\nThere is a slight loss of parity.\nJohnny's so long at the fair.
Where's the man could ease a heart Like a satin gown?\n-- Dorothy Parker, "The Satin Dress"
Whether weary or unweary, O man, do not rest, Do not cease your single-handed struggle. Go on, do not rest.\n-- An old Gujarati hymn
Whether you can hear it or not, The Universe is laughing behind your back.\n-- National Lampoon, "Deteriorata"
Whip it, baby. Whip it right. Whip it, baby. Whip it all night!
Who does not love wine, women, and song, Remains a fool his whole life long.\n-- Johann Heinrich Voss
Who loves not wisely but too well Will look on Helen's face in hell, But he whose love is thin and wise Will view John Knox in Paradise.\n-- Dorothy Parker
Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.\n-- A.E. Housman
Who to himself is law no law doth need, offends no law, and is a king indeed.\n-- George Chapman
With/Without - and who'll deny it's what the fighting's all about?\n-- Pink Floyd
Woke up this mornin' an' I had myself a beer, Yeah, Ah woke up this mornin' an' I had myself a beer The future's uncertain and the end is always near.\n-- Jim Morrison, "Roadhouse Blues"
Woke up this morning, don't believe what I saw. Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore. Seems I'm not alone in being alone. Hundred billion castaways looking for a call.\n-- The Police, "Message in a Bottle"
Yea from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records.\n-- Hamlet
Yes me, I got a bottle in front of me. And Jimmy has a frontal lobotomy. Just different ways to kill the pain the same. But I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, Than to have to have a frontal lobotomy. I might be drunk but at least I'm not insane.\n-- Randy Ansley M.D. (Dr. Rock)
Yesterday upon the stair I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today -- I think he's from the CIA.
You got to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues, And you know it don't come easy ... I don't ask for much, I only want trust, And you know it don't come easy ...
You know my heart keeps tellin' me, You're not a kid at thirty-three, You play around you lose your wife, You play too long, you lose your life. Some gotta win, some gotta lose, Goodtime Charlie's got the blues.
You may be right, I may be crazy, But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for!\n-- Billy Joel
You will find me drinking gin In the lowest kind of inn, Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.\n-- G.K. Chesterton
You'll always be, What you always were, Which has nothing to do with, All to do, with her.\n-- Company
Your wise men don't know how it feels To be thick as a brick.\n-- Jethro Tull, "Thick As A Brick"
Your worship is your furnaces which, like old idols, lost obscenes, have molten bowels; your vision is machines for making more machines.\n-- Gordon Bottomley, 1874
Yours is not to reason why, Just to Sail Away. And when you find you have to throw Your Legacy away; Remember life as was it is, And is as it were; Chasing sounds across the galaxy 'Till silence is but a blur.\n-- QYX.
We found you hiding We found you lying Choking on the dirt and sand. Your former glories And all the stories Dragged and washed with eager hands.\n-- ``Cities in Dust'', "Tinderbox", Siouxsie & the Banshees.
