Aquarium Fish Tank Quotes

They are so caught up in their happiness that they don't realize I'm not really a part of it. I am wandering along the periphery. I am like the people in the Winslow Homer paintings, sharing the same room with them but not really there. I am like the fish in the aquarium, thinking in a different language, adapting to a life that's not my natural habitat. I am the people in the other cars, each with his or her own story, but passing too quickly to be noticed or understood. . . . There are moments I just sit in my frame, float in my tank, ride in my car and say nothing, think nothing that connects me to anything at all.

All my life, I [Pari] have lived like an aquarium fish in the safety of a glass tank, behind a barrier as impenetrable as it has been transparent. I have been free to observe the glimmering world on the other side, to picture myself in it, if I like. But I have always been contained, hemmed in, by the hard, unyielding confines of the existence that Baba has constructed for me, at first knowingly, when I was young, and now guilelessly, now that he is fading day by day. I think I have grown accustomed to the glass and am terrified that when it breaks, when I am alone, I will spill out into the wide open unknown and flop around, helpless, lost, gasping for breath.

A fish tank is just interactive television for cats.

The world that was the emonation of divine had been reduced to a handful of dust. Thousands of people, all caught in profile looked into their mobile fish tanks. Each face, each car, transporting grief, boredom, rage. Someone in one of these cars was contemplating murder. Someone, rite now, in the privecy of his aquarium, threaded the beads of his suicide through his fingers, praying along the chain like a rosary. Someone begged for help from a God he didnt quite believe in, yet had no one else to appeal to.

For an aquarium worker, she didn’t seem to know much or care much about the smaller fish. They passed one huge tank full of tropical species, and when Frank pointed to a particular fish and asked what it was, Kate said, “Oh, those are the yellow ones.

All my life, I have lived like an aquarium fish in the safety of a glass tank, behind a barrier as impenetrable as it has been transparent. I have been free to observe the glimmering world on the other side, to picture myself in it, if I like. But I have always been contained, hemmed in, by the hard, unyielding confines of the existence that Baba has constructed for me, at first knowingly, when I was young, and now guilelessly, now that he is fading day by day. I think I have grown accustomed to the glass and am terrified that when it breaks, when I am alone, I will spill out into the wide open unknown and flop around, helpless, lost, gasping for breath.

Furthermore, Professor Uzzi-Tuzii had begun his oral translation as if he were not quite sure he could make the words hang together, going back over every sentence to iron out the syntactical creases, manipulating the phrases until they were not completely rumpled, smoothing them, clipping them, stopping at every word to illustrate its idiomatic uses and its commutations, accompanying himself with inclusive gestures as if inviting you to be content with approximate equivalents, breaking off to state grammatical rules, etymological derivations, quoting the classics. but just when you are convinced that for the professor philology and erudition mean more than what the story is telling, you realize the opposite is true: that academic envelope serves only to protect everything the story says and does not say, an inner afflatus always on the verge of being dispersed at contact with the air, the echo of a vanished knowledge revealed in the penumbra and in tacit allusions. Torn between the necessity to interject glosses on multiple meanings of the text and the awareness that all interpretation is a use of violence and caprice against a text, the professor, when faced by the most complicated passages, could find no better way of aiding comprehension than to read them in the original, The pronunciation of that unknown language, deduced from theoretical rules, not transmitted by the hearing of voices with their individual accents, not marked by the traces of use that shapes and transforms, acquired the absoluteness of sounds that expect no reply, like the song of the last bird of an extinct species or the strident roar of a just-invented jet plane that shatters the sky on its first test flight. Then, little by little, something started moving and flowing between the sentences of this distraught recitation,. The prose of the novel had got the better of the uncertainties of the voice; it had become fluent, transparent, continuous; Uzzi-Tuzii swam in it like a fish, accompanying himself with gestures (he held his hands open like flippers), with the movement of his lips (which allowed the words to emerge like little air bubbles), with his gaze (his eyes scoured the page like a fish's eyes scouring the seabed, but also like the eyes of an aquarium visitor as he follows a fish's movement's in an illuminated tank).

God, San Francisco was such a thief. A lady of the night, a sorceress with her hands out. Every time, all my years as a child, that we crossed the bridge, we had to pay to get in, pay to get out, pay for every little thing. Oakland was free, San Francisco was not. Pay me, pay me. Pay for the Pacific Ocean and the beach. I am expensive, the city always said, so pay me for my wonderful dark treats like the Steinhart Aquarium, with its dark wide hall lit up by tank after tank of bright gold green blue sharks dolphins whales stinger fish, cold-eyed still-as-a-corpse fish that didn't blink or budge when we tapped the thick glass with our fingernails. Pay, the voice said, to whomever took us on Saturday to the Fleischacker Zoo ... the hand of San Francisco reaches out to grab your stupid little nickels and dimes. Pay. Even as I stood in front of the Fat Lady, whose cackling gap-toothed twelve-feet-high, three-feet-wide body made me laugh for a solid hour, even as I collapsed in tears driven out of my eyes by laughter, I understood that the other name for San Francisco wasn't Frisco; it was pay you dumb jerks from Oakland pay.

As Mender came toward the bar his confident stride faltered when he realised that it was no simple aquarium for fish. It was a battle tank, and it held two dueling mermen, both near death. Open-mouthed, Mender was transfixed at the sight of flashing silver tails twisting and churning the water as each mermen sought a purchase on the other's neck and torso. The Taverner slammed down a heavy glass, forcing Mender to look down from the imprisoned creatures.

You’re dead, Margot.” It sounded more like “Nargot.” “Oh, Mason, we all are. Didn’t you know? But these aren’t,” she said, securing her blouse over her warm container. “They’re wiggling. I’ll show you how. I’ll show you how they wiggle—show-and-tell.” Margot picked up the spiky fish-handling gloves beside the aquarium. “I could adopt Judy,” Mason said. “She could be my heir, and we could do a trust.” “We certainly could,” Margot said, lifting a carp out of the holding tank. She brought a

Traveling on, the shaft of his light reached now a great, dully shining oblong, and he stopped, surprised. Then, through the glass sides, he saw bright shapes of fish wheel in schools down the opaque water, startled by the illumination. Coming at last, and so suddenly, on life like his own, Mr. Lecky moved closer. The fixed flood of his light enveloped these small fish dimly, glowed back on him. They came sliding, drifting, mouths in motion, gills rippling, up the light, against the glass. Their senseless round eyes stared at Mr. Lecky. Idling with great grace, the extravagant products of selective breeding - fringetails, Korean, calico - passed, swayed about, came languidly back. Moving faster, stub-finned, crop-tailed danios from the Malabar coast appeared, hovered, taking the light on their fat flanks, now spotted, now iridescent pearl or opal. Seeing so many of them, so eager and attentive, Mr. Lecky felt an unexpected compunction. He was their only proprietor; and soon, trapped unnaturally here in the big tank, they would starve to death. His light went back to a counter he had just passed, showing him again the half-noticed packages - food for birds and pet animals, food, too, for fish. Returning to the tank, his light found many of the fish still waiting, the rest rushing back. He went and took a package, tore the top off, and poured the contents onto the rectangle of open water. It would perhaps postpone the time when, having eaten each other, the sick remainder must die anyway.

All my life, I have lived like an aquarium fish in the safety of a glass tank, behind a barrier as impenetrable as it has been transparent.

All my life, I have lived like an aquarium fish in the safety of a glass tank, behind a barrier as impenetrable as it has been transparent. I have been free to observe the glimmering world on the other side, to picture myself in it, if I like. But I have always been contained, hemmed in, by the hard, unyielding confines of the existence

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Max waited until Barry went into the back office before tapping the aquarium tank and agitating the fish. "...here's the truth, Hildy. None of us guys is good enough for you --especially not Neanderbob. You deserve someone who's kind and creative and super hot." "And straight." "Yeah, that too. Now shut up for a while and watch. We could all learn something from tropical fish. They're utterly useless and yet content." "Be still and find your inner guppy." "Yeah, basically.

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How to Get Rid of Bubbles on Top of Fish Tank As an aquarium owner, it can be frustrating to see some issues on your tank, even if you feel that you have already done everything to maintain the aquarium. One of these issues is the bubbles appearing on the water on top of the fish tank. These bubbles look strange and might make you wonder what went wrong with the maintenance process you are doing.

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In the deadly glare of the Neon lights the pavements were densely crowded. Gordon threaded his way, a small shabby figure, with pale face and unkempt hair. The crowd slid past him; he avoided and was avoided. There is something horrible about London at night; the coldness, the anonymity, the aloofness. Seven million people, sliding to and fro, avoiding contact, barely aware of one another's existence, like fish in an aquarium tank.

Surprisingly few tussles occurred over the falling food. ... Only Push the puffer and Hammy the parrotfish regularly stole more than their fair share. But they argued that as they were bigger than the others, they deserved more. “Plus,” Push said, “and I don’t mean to be indelicate here, but some of you eat our ordure. Thus if we get more, you get more.” “Let’s face it,” added Hammy, wanting to add to Push’s words, “that is the way the world works.

On joining the aquarium community we all agreed to put aside our carnivorous ways to live off Professor Brown’s fish food. Every one of us agreed! If we start to eat each other, what kind of life would that be?

Watch fish. Find a fish tank in a restaurant, pet shop, or aquarium. Get comfortable and watch the fish swim into and out of view. Try not to comment to yourself. Simply watch them for at least ten minutes and notice everything you can about the ones who swim your way.

What Roop says is correct. That thermometer hasn’t worked in years.” Sanger paused, looking around for Hansom before continuing. Not seeing the goatfish, he proceeded confidently, “Actually, I daresay my own studies have found the instrument to be so imprecise that it is my professional opinion that the temperature is just as likely to be going down as to be going up!

Doesn't matter what I think or how I feel," said Doc Hansom. "Just go look at the thermometer mounted on the aquarium glass. That will give you your answer." Hansom went back to his inspections, leaving Tommy Tang to wonder why he had not thought of such a simple answer.

What about what Doc said?" asked Big Moe. "If we turn up the temperature it might hurt some of the fishes." "Collateral damage," said Sarin. "Nothing more. I tell you what, Big Moe, we'll turn it up slowly and the fish won't even notice.

Initially, only the crabs demurred. "It's not hot in here," Sarin said acidly. "Nothing has changed. You're all imagining things.

It may be," Doc Hansom the goatfish concluded, "that it is already too late.

Oh my God!” exclaimed Jessie the turtle, who alone immediately saw what the good doctor would say next. “And I am sad to say, my friends," concluded Doc Hansom the goatfish, "if the caulking seal breaks before the professor returns, the aquarium will likely drain and we will all die.

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As Augustus basked in self-praise, he became aware of a movement beyond his reflection, beyond the glass. At first he saw the flicking tail of the yellow goatfish, then a blue and gold tang, then a school of pearl wrasses. As he refocused his eyes into the tank he realized that all of the creatures of the aquarium were just across the glass, all of them staring at him. What on Earth is going on here, their expressions seemed to say. Augustus shook his head, suddenly uncomfortable. “Youse all there in the fish tank,” he growled, pointing, “youse can go stuff yerself for all I care! I’m done here.

Exactly!” shouted Sarin the crab, now standing on hind legs. The looks of fear had subsided from the faces of the creatures. “We have a right to be happy, and live well my friends. That’s why I’m telling you all to eat to your heart’s content!

I know that fish, generally speaking, don’t know what’s happening outside their tanks. Still, as soon as I left the aquarium, the axolotls pounced to devour the janitor fish. When I came back to check on them, the axolotls were back on the bottom of the tank. A few days later they finally tore each other to pieces.