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Frogs Quotes

Browse 338 quotes about Frogs.

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Frogs Quotes

“Some women have kissed—and some are kissing—a lot of frogs, even though the very first man that they have each kissed was and is still a prince.”

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Author:Mokokoma Mokhonoana
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“Activities such as chanting, bowing, and sitting in zazen are not at all wasted, even when done merely formally, for even this superficial encounter with the Dharma will have some wholesome outcome at a later time. However, it must be said in the most unambiguous terms that this is not real Zen. To follow the Dharma involves a complete reorientation of one's life in such a way that one's activities are manifestations of, and are filled with, a deeper meaning. If it were not otherwise, and merely sitting in zazen were enough, every frog in the pond would be enlightened, as one Zen master said. Dōgen Zenji himself said that one must practice Zen with the attitude of a person trying to extinguish a fire in his hair. That is, Zen must be practiced with an attitude of single-minded urgency.”

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Book:How to Raise an Ox: Zen Practice as Taught in Zen Master Dogen's Shobogenzo
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“These days when you kiss a prince you often run the risk of turning him into a frog. But don't let the ogres in shining armor get you down. There is no need for distress - you don't want to be anyone's damsel anyway. Simply remind yourself that you are busy racking up those 'frequent failure points' that will eventually pay for an all expenses paid trip to Mr Right.”

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Author:Anthon St. Maarten
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“A Gathering of Frogs by Stewart Stafford Through the fence with friends, And into the back field frontier, Past the growing pile of lumber, Shivers for the Halloween bonfire. Down the slope to a boundary hedge, Rusty bathtub lying like a crime scene, And into the deepening marsh beyond, For the ritual kidnapping of frogspawn. Frogs leap through reeds and tall grass, The bulbous jelly of many eyes located, Scooped surgically into a container, Up to our fort to study our live plunder. Tongues of smoke from our twig fire, On the derelict path between estates, Crisps consumed in the darkening chill, Then, satiated, a walk home for dinner. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

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Author:Stewart Stafford
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“I have destroyed almost the whole race of frogs, which does not happen in that savage Batrachomyomachia of Homerr. For in the anatomy of frogs, which, by favour of my very excellent colleague D. Carolo Fracassato, I had set on foot in order to become more certain about the membranous substance of the lungs, it happened to me to see such things that not undeservedly I can better make use of that [saying] of Homer for the present matter— 'I see with my eyes a work trusty and great.' For in this (frog anatomy) owing to the simplicity of the structure, and the almost complete transparency of the vessels which admits the eye into the interior, things are more clearly shown so that they will bring the light to other more obscure matters.”

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Author:Marcello Malpighi
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“Drat. Daisy pulled back with a frown. She felt guilty that she had enjoyed the kiss so little. And it made her feel even worse when it appeared Llandrindon had enjoyed it quite a lot. “My dear Miss Bowman,” Llandrindon murmured flirtatiously. “You didn’t tell me you tasted so sweet.” He reached for her again, and Daisy danced backward with a little yelp. “My lord, control yourself!” “I cannot.” He pursued her slowly around the fountain until they resembled a pair of circling cats. Suddenly he made a dash for her, catching at the sleeve of her gown. Daisy pushed hard at him and twisted away, feeling the soft white muslin rip an inch or two at the shoulder seam. There was a loud splash and a splatter of water drops. Daisy stood blinking at the empty spot where Llandrindon had been, and then covered her eyes with her hands as if that would somehow make the entire situation go away. “My lord?” she asked gingerly. “Did you… did you just fall into the fountain?” “No,” came his sour reply. “You pushed me into the fountain.” “It was entirely unintentional, I assure you.” Daisy forced herself to look at him. Llandrindon rose to his feet, water streaming from his hair and clothes, his coat pockets filled to the brim. It appeared the dip in the fountain had cooled his passions considerably. He glowered at her in affronted silence. Suddenly his eyes widened, and he reached into one of his water-laden coat pockets. A tiny frog leaped from the pocket and returned to the fountain with a quiet plunk. Daisy tried to choke back her amusement, but the harder she tried the worse it became, until she finally burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth, while irrepressible giggles slipped out. “I’m so— oh dear—” And she bent over laughing until tears came to her eyes. The tension between them disappeared as Llandrin don began to smile reluctantly. He stepped from the fountain, dripping from every surface. “I believe when you kiss the toad,” he said dryly, “he is supposed to turn into a prince. Unfortunately in my case it doesn’t seem to have worked.” Daisy felt a rush of sympathy and kindness, even as she snorted with a few last giggles. Approaching him carefully, she placed her small hands on either side of his wet face and pressed a friendly, fleeting kiss on his lips. His eyes widened at the gesture. “You are someone’s handsome prince,” Daisy said, smiling at him apologetically. “Just not mine. But when the right woman finds you… how lucky she’ll be.”

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Book:Scandal in Spring
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“It was still raw and cold, but every now and then there would be a day, or an hour, or a moment, when the sun came out, and there was something different in the air: a sort of glimpsed fragrance, like when the kitchen door is opened for a second while the birthday cake is being baked. It was a smell of promise. The little brook bellowed hoarsely; there was a swelling at the joints of the twigs, and the first skunk cabbages appeared, brown cowls beside the brook. And at night, tinkling, jingling, gurgling, with high silvery notes, came the voices of the peepers. The dark was spangled with their voices.”

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Book:The Four-Story Mistake
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“No one today can credibly claim to know how the future will turn out. I have been told that while all frogs begin their lives as tadpoles, not all tadpoles become frogs. It seems that in certain artificially controlled environments - and who will deny that our environments are increasingly artificial - some will remain tadpoles their entire lives. At this point in our cultural history we are becoming like the tadpoles of a new kind of humanity. It remains to be seen of one day we will become frogs.”

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Book:Juvenescence: A Cultural History of Our Age
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“I joined Claudio on an expedition in search of one of the country’s most fabulous freaks, the incredibly rare Southern Darwin’s frog, which was discovered by the big beard himself in 1834 on his epic five year Beagle voyage. What makes this frog so extraordinary is that it has eschewed conventional pond-based metamorphosis for something more sci-fi: after mating the male guards the fertilized eggs until they are close to hatching, then gobbles them up. Six weeks later, like a scene out of Alien, he barfs up baby frogs. He is the only male animal other than the seahorse to give birth, albeit through his mouth.”

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Book:The Unexpected Truth About Animals: A Menagerie of the Misunderstood
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