A Quote by Ambrose Bierce

Battle, n., A method of untying with the teeth a political knot that would not yield to the tongue. — © Ambrose Bierce
Battle, n., A method of untying with the teeth a political knot that would not yield to the tongue.
Writing a poem is unwriting a knot, like untying a shoelace that is clubbing your foot.
How delicious is the winning Of a kiss at Love's beginning, When two mutual hearts are sighing For the knot there's no untying!
Long ago in China, knot-makers tied string into buttons and frogs, and rope into bell pulls. There was one knot so complicated that it blinded the knot-maker. Finally an emperor outlawed this cruel knot, and the nobles could not order it anymore. If I had lived in China, I would have been an outlaw knot-maker.
With knot of one, the spell's begun. With knot of two, the spell be true. With knot of three, the spell is free. With knot of four, the power is stored. With knot of five, the spell with thrive. With knot of six, this spell I fix.
For one week, all I could think about was drinking margaritas--well, that and running my tongue along Reyes's teeth--but I didn't have salt--or Reyes's teeth. I'd also lacked the energy to leave my apartment to get some--or the desire to stoop low enough to beg Reyes to let me lick his teeth after what he did--so I could only wish for a margarita. And dream of Reyes's teeth. I'd secretly hoped a margarita would magically appear in my hand, but that would mean I would have to put down the remote, and God knew that was not going to happen.
I double-knot my shoe laces. It's a pain untying your shoes afterward-particularly if you get them wet-but so is stopping in the middle of a race to tie them.
Let arms yield to the toga, let the [victor's] laurel yield to the [orator's] tongue.
Since I cannot govern my own tongue, though within my own teeth, how can I hope to govern the tongue of others?
My soul is an entangled knot, Upon a liquid vortex wrought By Intellect in the Unseen residing, And thine doth like a convict sit, With marline-spike untwisting it, Only to find its knottiness abiding; Since all the tools for its untying In four-dimensional space are lying, Wherein they fancy intersperses Long avenues of universes, While Klein and Clifford fill the void With one finite, unbounded homoloid, And think the Infinite is now at last destroyed.
We might knit that knot with our tongues that we shall never undo with our teeth.
Let arms give place to the robe, and the laurel of the warriors yield to the tongue of the orator.
The tongue walkes where the teeth speede not.
When the teeth are shut the tongue is at home.
Well, another senator rose and said {as they always do} 'Does the gentleman yield?' They always say that - least they call each other 'gentleman' in there. But the tone they put on the word, it would sound more appropriate if they came right out and said 'Would the coyote from Maine yield?' 'cause that's about the way it sounds. Well, then, the other senator says 'I yield' (for if he don't the other guy'll keep on talking anyhow). So the coyote from Maine says 'I yield to...the polecat from Oregon!'
But ... the working scientist ... is not consciously following any prescribed course of action, but feels complete freedom to utilize any method or device whatever which in the particular situation before him seems likely to yield the correct answer. ... No one standing on the outside can predict what the individual scientist will do or what method he will follow.
What good is a smooth tongue without sharp teeth?
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