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   “TORTOISE, n. A creature thoughtfully created to supply occasion for the following lines by the illustrious Ambat Delaso:
TO MY PET TORTOISE
My friend, you are not graceful --not at all; Your gait's between a stagger and a sprawl.
Nor are you beautiful: your head's a snake's To look at, and I do not doubt it aches.
As to your feet, they'd make an angel weep.
'Tis true you take them in whene'er you sleep.
No, you're not pretty, but you have, I own, A certain firmness --mostly you're [sic] backbone.
Firmness and strength (you have a giant's thews) Are virtues that the great know how to use --
I wish that they did not; yet, on the whole, You lack --excuse my mentioning it --Soul.
So, to be candid, unreserved and true, I'd rather you were I than I were you.
Perhaps, however, in a time to be, When Man's extinct, a better world may see
Your progeny in power and control, Due to the genesis and growth of Soul.
So I salute you as a reptile grand Predestined to regenerate the land.
Father of Possibilities, O deign To accept the homage of a dying reign!
In the far region of the unforeknown I dream a tortoise upon every throne.
I see an Emperor his head withdraw Into his carapace for fear of Law;
A King who carries something else than fat, Howe'er acceptably he carries that;
A President not strenuously bent On punishment of audible dissent --
Who never shot (it were a vain attack) An armed or unarmed tortoise in the back;
Subject and citizens that feel no need To make the March of Mind a wild stampede;
All progress slow, contemplative, sedate, And "Take your time" the word, in Church and State.
O Tortoise, 'tis a happy, happy dream, My glorious testudinous regime!
I wish in Eden you'd brought this about By slouching in and chasing Adam out.” |  Ambrose Bierce quotes (American Writer, Journalist and Editor, 1842-1914)
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 “WHANGDEPOOTENAWAH, n. In the Ojibwa tongue, disaster; an unexpected affliction that strikes hard.
Should you ask me whence this laughter, Whence this audible big-smiling, With its labial extension, With its maxillar distortion And its diaphragmic rhythmus Like the billowing of an ocean, Like the shaking of a carpet, I should answer, I should tell you: From the great deeps of the spirit, From the unplummeted abysmus Of the soul this laughter welleth As the fountain, the gug-guggle, Like the river from the canon [sic], To entoken and give warning That my present mood is sunny. Should you ask me further question -- Why the great deeps of the spirit, Why the unplummeted abysmus Of the soule extrudes this laughter, This all audible big-smiling, I should answer, I should tell you With a white heart, tumpitumpy, With a true tongue, honest Injun: William Bryan, he has Caught It, Caught the Whangdepootenawah!
Is't the sandhill crane, the shankank, Standing in the marsh, the kneedeep, Standing silent in the kneedeep With his wing-tips crossed behind him And his neck close-reefed before him, With his bill, his william, buried In the down upon his bosom, With his head retracted inly, While his shoulders overlook it? Does the sandhill crane, the shankank, Shiver grayly in the north wind, Wishing he had died when little, As the sparrow, the chipchip, does? No 'tis not the Shankank standing, Standing in the gray and dismal Marsh, the gray and dismal kneedeep. No, 'tis peerless William Bryan Realizing that he's Caught It, Caught the Whangdepootenawah!” | Ambrose Bierce quotes (American Writer, Journalist and Editor, 1842-1914)
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 “COMMONWEALTH, n. An administrative entity operated by an incalculable multitude of political parasites, logically active but fortuitously efficient.
This commonwealth's capitol's corridors view, So thronged with a hungry and indolent crew Of clerks, pages, porters and all attaches Whom rascals appoint and the populace pays That a cat cannot slip through the thicket of shins Nor hear its own shriek for the noise of their chins. On clerks and on pages, and porters, and all, Misfortune attend and disaster befall! May life be to them a succession of hurts; May fleas by the bushel inhabit their shirts; May aches and diseases encamp in their bones, Their lungs full of tubercles, bladders of stones; May microbes, bacilli, their tissues infest, And tapeworms securely their bowels digest; May corn-cobs be snared without hope in their hair, And frequent impalement their pleasure impair. Disturbed be their dreams by the awful discourse Of audible sofas sepulchrally hoarse, By chairs acrobatic and wavering floors -- The mattress that kicks and the pillow that snores! Sons of cupidity, cradled in sin! Your criminal ranks may the death angel thin, Avenging the friend whom I couldn't work in. --K.Q.” | Ambrose Bierce quotes (American Writer, Journalist and Editor, 1842-1914)
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