A Quote by Bridget Marquardt

I don't have a love for spiders. — © Bridget Marquardt
I don't have a love for spiders.

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With all due respect to arachnophobes, I love spiders. Some might call me obsessed, but I've been studying spiders and spider silks for many years now and don't see an end in sight. There is simply too much to do.
I want to write about spiders. To me, this is the one theme that cuts right across and scares just about everybody. Spiders, to me, are just about the most horrible, awful things that I can think about. I think everyone is afraid of spiders.
Spider venom comes in many forms. It can often take a long while to discover the full effects of the bite. Naturalists have pondered this for years: there are spiders whose bite can cause the place bitten to rot and to die, sometimes more than a year after it was bitten. As to why spiders do this, the answer is simple. It's because spiders think this is funny, and they don't want you ever to forget them.
The Spider is an ode to my mother. She was my best friend. Like a spider, my mother was a weaver. . . Like spiders, my mother was very clever. Spiders are friendly presences that eat mosquitoes. We know that mosquitoes spread diseases and are therefore unwanted. So, spiders are helpful and protective, just like my mother.
As far as what I'm afraid of, I hate spiders. I'm pretty good at being not afraid of almost anything, except for spiders.
You don't work with spiders very long before you start noticing how important silk is to their life and just how special that is for spiders.
I hate spiders; I'm terrified of spiders.
Spiders frighten me. In response to the spider alerts for Australia, please can the Australian government remove all spiders from Australia and blow them into outer space.
Like, 100 percent, I hate spiders. I thought I really liked them, and I learned that was just false. I really can't be around spiders. It scares me so much.
There was less than I’d expected in the rainy-day fund that Mom had kept in the bottom of an underwear drawer in a panty hose egg labeled ‘DEAD SPIDERS.’ As if I hadn’t always known it was there. As if I wouldn’t want to look at dead spiders.
It was no mean trick doing the wiring with those mittens on. But I managed it and crawled out, batting spiders into the shadows. I could hear a thud as they hit the floor joists, then a scuttling sound, then, worst of all, the silence of spiders.
I don't like spiders at all, but I love heights.
I grew up reading thrillers, science fiction, fantasy - you name it - and one day I asked myself if there was a reason why a fear of spiders was so common. Was there something buried deep in our evolutionary history that made being scared of spiders a survival instinct?
If I'm around spiders, my fear isn't so much the spider, but my fear is that I'm somewhere rustic and that spiders are crawling around. I must be in the woods.
The world must live. We are only one species among billions. The gods don't love us any more than they love spiders or bears or whales or water lilies.
The world is well supplied with spiders whose male ancestors died after mating. The world is bereft of spiders whose would-be ancestors never mated in the first place.
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