A Quote by Edward Abbey

The night I filled an inside straight: Even a blind hog's gonna root up an acorn once in a while. — © Edward Abbey
The night I filled an inside straight: Even a blind hog's gonna root up an acorn once in a while.
They say a blind hog will find the acorn one day.
What I have in mind when I start to write could fit inside an acorn-an acorn, moreover, that rarely if ever grows into an oak. Write fiction and you relinquish reason. You start with an acorn and you end up with a mackerel.
Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes.
Even fools say something worthwhile now and again. Even a blind pig finds an acorn sometimes.
Eventually, even a blind squirell will find an acorn.
Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn now and again.
Every band has an 'off' night once in a while - that's gonna happen.
A bee rose up from a sun-filled paper cup, off to make slum honey from some diet root beer it had found inside.
We are, in a certain way, defined as much by our potential as by its expression. There is a great difference between an acorn and a little bit of wood carved into an acorn shape, a difference not always readily apparent to the naked eye. The difference is there even if the acorn never has the opportunity to plant itself and become an oak. Remembering its potential changes the way in which we think of the acorn and react to it. How we value it. If an acorn were conscious, knowing its potential would change the way that it might think and feel about itself.
I had a very difficult relationship with my mother. She used to wake me up in the middle of the night if I wasn't sleeping straight and was messing up the sheets. Now when I stay in hotels I sleep so straight they don't even think I've used the bed.
I'm gonna tie you up, blind fold you, and we gonna play which hole feel the best.
I had always thought that once you grew up you could do anything you wanted - stay up all night or eat ice-cream straight out of the container.
CNN and MSNBC, our primary competitors, are trying to figure out how to beat us. There are some good, smart people at those networks, and even occasionally a blind pig finds an acorn.
I have to tell them that last night was a shameful train wreck filled with blind cuddly puppies.
For their entire lives, even before they met you, your mother and father held their love for you inside their hearts like an acorn holds an oak tree.
Time is different for a tree than for a man. Sun and soil and water, these are the things a weirwood understands, not days and years and centuries. For men, time is a river. We are trapped in its flow, hurtling from past to present, always in the same direction. The lives of trees are different. They root and grow and die in one place, and that river does not move them. The oak is the acorn, the acorn is the oak.
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