A Quote by Jim Benton

Ant 1: So, uh, do you ever worry that your itsy little neck is just going to snap under the weight of your head? Ant 2: Stop asking me that. You ask me that, like, every five minutes. Ant 1: Sometimes I notice my antennae out of the corner of my eye and I'm all, like: AHH! Something is on me! Get it off! Get it off! Ant 2: Yeah, the antennae again. Listen, I just remembered, I have to go walk around aimlessly now.
We have the right to rid our houses of ants; but what we have no right to do is to forget to honor the ant as God made it, out in the place where God made the ant to be. When we meet the ant on the sidewalk, we step over him. He is a creature, like ourselves; not made in the image of God, it is true, but equal with man as far as creation is concerned. The ant and the man are both creatures.
This is what metaphor is. It is not saying that an ant is an elephant. Perhaps; both are alive. No. Metaphor is saying the ant is an elephant. Now, logically speaking, I know there is a difference. If you put elephants and ants before me, I believe that every time I will correctly identify the elephant and the ant. So metaphor must come from a very different place than that of the logical, intelligent mind. It comes from a place that is very courageous, willing to step out of our preconceived ways of seeing things and open so large that it can see the oneness in an ant and in an elephant.
To an ant on the ground, an airplane probably looks like an ant.
You know what, my new mantra is this: ANT AND DEC. Ant and Dec. I might get their names tattooed on each wrist. Because they smile, and they never complain, and it seems to work for them and I wish I could be more like that.
When someone critises or disagrees with you, a small ant of hatred and antagonism is born in your heart. If you do not squash that ant at once, it might grow into a snake, or even a dragon.
The first meaningful friendship moment we had was when Ant sent me a Fred Flintstone Christmas card and it said, 'To Dec from Ant, have a yabba dabba do Christmas.'
An Ant on a hot stove-lid runs faster than an Ant on a cold one. Who wouldn't?
Cicala to cicala is dear, and ant to ant, and hawks to hawks, but to me the muse and song.
As a Marvel fan who grew up with 'The Avengers' and 'Ant-Man' and everything, I definitely have my own sort of feelings about what I want to see as a fan in an 'Ant-Man' movie.
On the lawn next to the sidewalk a fire ant colony is swarming. The ants are pouring out of a mound nest, here no more than an irregular pile of dirt partly flattened by the last pass of a lawnmower. Winged queens and males are taking off on their nuptial flight, protected by angry-looking workers that run up and down the grass blades and out onto the blistering-hot concrete of the sidewalk. The species is unmistakably Solenopsis geminata, the native fire ant.
I used to ask my mom to try and shave my head on the sides to give me a receding hairline because Adam Ant had one.
Photo shoots for underage girls are like letting an ant walk around with honey.
The culture-heroes of our liberal bourgeois civilisation are ant-liberal and ant-bourgeois . . .
I got an ant farm. Them fellas didn't grow anything. Hey, how about some celery? Plus, if I tore your legs off, you would look like snowmen.
They say Ant and Dec are a double act, but they are just presenters. They read off an Autocue and they don't do gags, so that doesn't count.
I was a bit nervous before I got married and Ant said to me: 'Honestly, it just gets better.' It's amazing and the best thing I ever did.
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