Nobody’s ever asked me to a party before, as a friend. Is that why you dyed your eyebrow, for the party? Should I do mine too?

J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince1 1 1  1 1 1ex2hibitionofdial00worc_0001

The Tragedy at Mini-Beastie Hall

In Beastington  a family lived, who made a “Beasts R You,”
It was a section of a garden – well, a mini-beastie zoo.
The little creatures all moved in and crawled around the wall,
And the lovely name they gave their home was Mini-Beastie Hall.

“Let’s throw a lovely party, if the family gives consent.
We’ll plan a meal, arrange some games, get invitations sent.”
The news got round, the day arrived, guests came to “Beasts R You”.
What a really lovely place to live, it’s exactly like a zoo.”

A ladybird, a grasshopper, slugs and worms came too –
It was such a nice occasion and the party grew and grew.
One brought his own computer – the spider’s name was Fred.
“I’ve had a  lovely thought” he said “You can learn to surf the web.”

“A computer’s such an asset for your lovely little park
I’ll teach you how to crawl the web – if you wait until it’s dark!
I don’t want you to bug it, or to introduce a worm –
I’ll only teach you one by one – just wait and take your turn.”


So, one by one they entered: “Just what can we achieve?” –
But a tragic thing then happened, for no-one seemed to leave.
Mini Beastie Hall went quiet, there was no-one on the wall –
Which was really not surprising – Fred had eaten one and all.

Poems about insects and spiders by Josie Whitehead

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by Shel Silverstein

So what if nobody came?
I’ll have ALL the ice cream and tea,
And I’ll laugh with myself,
And I’ll dance with myself,
And I’ll sing, “Happy Birthday to me!”

 Shel Silverstein

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Belbela, you live by the movements of others.

 Belbela, the paddy bird of India; it is always seen  near cattle  and feeds off the ticks. 1 1 1  11 1 d2ancingforstreng00scot_0262

If the owner of a goat is not afraid to travel by 

night, why should the owner of a hyena 
be ?
(seeing that night is the usual time for 
a hyena to move about)?

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Movement never lies.  It is a barometer telling the state of the soul’s weather to all who can read it.  

Martha Graham

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1 1 1 1 1 1 1 c2artoonsfrompunc01lond_0217

“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”

“In my youth,” Father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that?”

“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
Allow me to sell you a couple?”

“You are old,” said the youth, “And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”

“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
What made you so awfully clever?”

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said his father; “don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!”


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Why is it no one ever sent me yet one perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get one perfect rose. Dorothy Parker

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“Feeling at peace, however fragilely, made it easy to slip into the visionary end of the dark-sight. The rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but that they also loved the dark, where their roots grew through the lightless mystery of the earth. The roses said: You do not have to choose. 

― Robin McKinley, Sunshine

Not everything is a mermaid that dives into the water. Russia

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Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW : 1895 – 1930), Sunday 7 July 1929,

1 1 1 1 1 1 Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW - 1895 - 1930), Sunday 7 July 1929,

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Heard the Mermaids Singing

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
T. S. Eliot.

I heard the mermaids singing
and wished I had not heard.
I heard the mermaids singing
a song that has no words.
I heard the mermaids singing
“Come, walk into the sea,”
and all the waves that break are like
white horses sent for me.

I heard the mermaids singing
and wished I could forget.
I heard the mermaids singing
and walked away, and yet
I heard the mermaids singing
and hear them singing still.
As water to a wall of sand
their singing to my will.