A Quote by Margaret Thatcher

It may be the cock that crows, but it is the hen that lays the eggs. — © Margaret Thatcher
It may be the cock that crows, but it is the hen that lays the eggs.
Do not give, as many rich men do, like a hen that lays her eggs ...and then cackles.
Even a cock crows over his own dunghill.
Be bold and boast, just like the cock beside the hen.
Socialism lays an bad egg by killing the capitalism that lays the golden eggs
The goose that lays the golden eggs likes to lay where there are eggs already.
What the Danes left in Ireland were hens and weasels. And when the cock crows in the morning, the country people will always say 'It is for Denmark they are crowing. Crowing they are to be back in Denmark.'
Death is a fickle hen, and random are her eggs.
Television is a golden goose that lays scrambled eggs; and it is futile and probably fatal to beat it for not laying caviar. Anyway, more people like scrambled eggs than caviar.
Rooster, maybe well crows, but the eggs still bears the chicken.
I go on working for the same reason that a hen goes on laying eggs.
Gentleness doesn't get work done unless you happen to be a hen laying eggs.
The goose that lays golden eggs has been considered a most valuable possession. But even more profitable is the privilege of taking the golden eggs laid by somebody else's goose. The investment bankers and their associates now enjoy that privilege.
the breed is more than the pasture. As you know, the cuckoo lays her eggs in any bird's nest; it may be hatched among blackbirds or robins or thrushes, but it is always a cuckoo. ... a man cannot deliver himself from his ancestors.
The lancet fluke (Dicrocoelium) infects the brain of ants by taking control and driving them to climb to the top of a blade of grass where they can be eaten by a cow. The ingested fluke then lays eggs in the cow gut. Eventually, the eggs exit the cow, and hungry snails eat the dung (and fluke eggs). The fluke enters the snail's digestive gland and gets excreted in sticky slime full of a seething mass of flukes to be drunk by ants as a source of moisture.
The gentleman puts me in mind of an old hen which persists in setting after her eggs are taken away.
The horse and mule live thirty years And never know of wine and beers. The goat and sheep at twenty die Without a taste of scotch or rye. The cow drinks water by the ton And at eighteen is mostly done. The dog at fifteen cashes in Without the aid of rum or gin. The modest, sober, bone-dry hen Lays eggs for noggs and dies at ten. But sinful, ginful, rum-soaked men Survive three-score years and ten. And some of us, though mighty few Stay pickled 'til we're ninety-two.
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