A Quote by Heraclitus

Corpses are more fit to be thrown out than is dung. — © Heraclitus
Corpses are more fit to be thrown out than is dung.

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Twice I got thrown out of casino, literally thrown out by my feet thrown through the front door when I thought I had caught a cheater one night.
One had better not rush, otherwise dung comes out rather than creative work.
Being thrown out of this place is significantly better than being thrown out of a leper colony.
. . . dogma is less useful than cow dung. One can make whatever one likes out of it, even revisionism. . . .
I've never thrown out a TV set out of some hotel's window, but I have thrown a microwave out of one 'coz it was cooler.
I think that the game has gotten faster, so it's more position-less more so than position, and it's about fit and how pieces fit together and having teams match up to you more so than matching up to teams.
Flowers often grow more beautifully on dung-hills than in gardens that look beautifully kept.
I studied in eight schools and did not get to be in a school for more than two years, as I was always requested to get out, even though I was not thrown out ever.
Speaking of dust, ‘out of which we came and to which we shall return,’ do you know that after we are dead our corpses are devoured by different kinds of worms according as we are fat or thin? In fat corpses one species of maggot is found, the rhizophagus, while thin corpses are patronized only by the phora. The latter is evidently the aristocrat, the fastidious gourmet which turns up its nose at a heavy meal of copious breasts and juicy at bellies. Just think, there is no perfect equality, even in the manner in which we feed the worms.
I was going to be in an acting school in London, and then I promptly got thrown out of an acting school in London. Well, it wasn't that I got thrown out as much as I was not invited back, which is the same thing, just more polite.
Who were the fools who spread the story that brute force cannot kill ideas? Nothing is easier. And once they are dead they are no more than corpses.
More than anything I want to be fit so I don't get out of breath when I play football with the kids.
I've always wanted to be thrown into the ocean when I die - to be rowed out to sea and thrown overboard into the Atlantic.
He is not injured. He's not fit. He's not fit to play football, unfortunately. He played in a reserve game the other day and I could have run about more than he did. I can't pick him.
Our job is like a baker's work - his rolls are tasty as long as they're fresh; after two days they're stale; after a week, they're covered with mould and fit only to be thrown out.
I do let the kids play on devices when we eat out - it's better than being thrown out of a restaurant.
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