A Quote by Edward Abbey

Roosters: The cry of the male chicken is the most barbaric yawp in all of nature. — © Edward Abbey
Roosters: The cry of the male chicken is the most barbaric yawp in all of nature.
I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.
Nowadays anyone with a crap laptop and an Internet connection can sound their barbaric yawp, whatever it may be.
I am too not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
If you are a woman and you bought this book for practical tips on how to make it in a male-dominated workplace, here they are. No pigtails, no tube tops. Cry sparingly. (Some people say “Never let them see you cry.” I say, if you’re so mad you could just cry, then cry. It terrifies everyone.)
I love chicken. I love chicken products: fried chicken, roasted chicken, chicken nuggets - whatever. And going to Japan, I would see that these chicken were smoked and then grilled and then have this amazing crispy skin.
It is the toughest, most macho of male sports, and with that comes an image. In many ways, it is barbaric, and I could never have come out without first establishing myself and earning respect as a player. Rugby was my passion, my whole life, and I wasn't prepared to risk losing everything I loved.
The sound universe is also spectacular around here. In the evenings there's a cricket orchestra with frogs providing the bass line. In the dead of night the dogs howl about how misunderstood they are. Before dawn the roosters for miles around announce how freaking cool it is to be roosters.
As anyone who even remotely knows me, I will eat chicken with some chicken, and maybe more chicken. Chicken done any which way, basically.
Roasted chicken, boiled chicken, smoked chicken, fried chicken, I love them all!
The man who has fed the chicken every day throughout its life at last wrings its neck instead, showing that more refined views as to the uniformity of nature would have been useful to the chicken.
Well: the day is a poem but too much Like one of Jeffers's, crusted with blood and barbaric omens Painful to excess, inhuman as a hawk's cry.
Chicken breast is the driest, [most] tasteless part of the chicken as far as I'm concerned.
Yes. The original argument is defective. Substitute the word 'male' for 'gay,' and you'll see the flaw: 'Male people cannot be normal. If everyone were male starting tomorrow, the human race would die out, so being male cannot be nature's intended way.' Or you could substitute the word 'female.' In either case, the argument makes no sense: Being male or female is perfectly normal.
To know only one thing well is to have a barbaric mind: civilization implies the graceful relation of all varieties of experience to a central humane system of thought. The present age is peculiarly barbaric: introduce, say, a Hebrew scholar to an ichthyologist or an authority on Danish place names and the pair of them would have no single topic in common but the weather or the war (if there happened to be a war in progress, which is usual in this barbaric age).
Storm the castle Stem the tide Rise above yourself Cry baby cry Cry cry to heaven If that doesn't do it for you Go ahead and cry like hell
I think letting babies cry it out is barbaric. Why would parenting stop when it's dark outside? You can't expect a baby to know that he's supposed to sleep just because we want to go to bed.
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