A Quote by Red Barber
Running like a bunny with his tail on fire.
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Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away. So he said to his mother, "I am running away". "If you run away", said his mother, "I will run after you. For you are my little bunny".
Bunny slippers remind me of who I am.You can't get a swelled head if you wear bunny slippers. You can't lose your sense of perspective and start acting like a star or a rich lady if you keep on wearing bunny slippers. Besides, bunny slippers give me confidence because they're so jaunty. They make a statement; they say, 'Nothing the world does to me can ever get me so far down that I can't be silly and frivolous.
People assume, because I'm Hef's girlfriend, that I'm a Bunny and I'm a Playmate and I'm a centerfold, but they're different things. If you're a Playmate or a centerfold, which is the same thing, you pose for the magazine, you are one particular month, and not every Playmate is a Bunny. A Bunny is a girl who used to work at the Playboy Club, she had the Bunny costume, and now that we don't have Playboy Clubs, it's just Playmates who work special promotions and are fitted for a Bunny costume.
Once upon a time, the Reindeer took a running leap and jumped over the Northern Lights. But he jumped too low, and the long fur of his beautiful flowing tail got singed by the rainbow fires of the aurora. To this day the reindeer has no tail to speak of. But he is too busy pulling the Important Sleigh to notice what is lost. And he certainly doesn’t complain. What's your excuse?
Running is special. We've all done it: well, poorly, focused, in fear, being pursued, toward a goal. It's just elemental. Running is like fire.
The people who bind themselves to systems are those who are unable to encompass the whole truth and try to catch it by the tail; a system is like the tail of truth, but truth is like a lizard; it leaves its tail in your fingers and runs away knowing full well that it will grow a new one in a twinkling.
I do not believe that any peacock envies another peacock his tail, because every peacock is persuaded that his own tail is the finest in the world. The consequence of this is that peacocks are peaceable birds.
On this Twitter thing, at least five people a day say 'bring back the mullet.' My wife told me I'm not allowed. Troy Tulowitzki wants me to grow a rat-tail for his charity. I was like, 'What the heck is a rat-tail?'
The man running toward me is not a man, he is a boy. A shaggy-haired boy with a crease between his eyebrows. Will. Dull-eyed and mindless, but still Will. He stops running and mirrors me, his feet planted and his gun up. In an instant, I see his finger poised over the trigger and hear the bullet slide into the chamber, and I fire. My eyes squeezed shut. Can't breathe. The bullet hit him in the head. I know because that's where I aimed it.
The spirit of the year, like bacchant crowned, With lighted torch goes careless on his way; And soon bursts into flame the maple's spray, And vines are running fire along the ground.
Why are you chasing your tail so?" Said the kitten, "I have learned that the best thing for a cat is happiness, and that happiness is my tail. Therefore, I am chasing it: and when I catch it. I shall have happiness." Said the cat, "My son, I, too, have paid attention to the problems of the universe. I, too, have judged that happiness is in my tail. But, I have noticed that whenever I chase it, it keeps running away from me, and when I go about my business, it just seems to come after me wherever I go.
I wanted to know how Jackie felt about [John F. Kennedy], and I got to know Rachel "Bunny" Mellon. Bunny and her were buddies. I asked, "How do you know what Jackie knew?" And Bunny said, "She told me."... Jackie called him "Magic." Bunny said she just picked her man. That was it. This was the guy she loved.
Put a small child in a playpen with an apple and a bunny. If s/he eats the apple and plays with the bunny, s/he's normal;but if s/he eats the bunny and plays with the apple, I'll buy you a new car. Somewhere along the line we must have been TAUGHT to do the wrong thing.
Just his luck he was related to this grubby old dude. He hoped all sons of Neptune didn't share the same fate. First, you start carrying a man satchel. Next thing you know, you're running around in a bathrobe and pink bunny slippers, chasing chickens with a weed whacker.
He is like the fox, who effaces his tracks in the sand with his tail.
I like to think of fire held in a man's hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking. I wonder what great things have come from such hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind--and it is proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression.
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