Cheetah Quotes

He leaned forward to inspect her closer. "Is that all hair?" ... Sudden, overwhelming panic clawed up Cress's throat. With a squeak, she ducked out of view of the camera and scrambled beneath the desk. Her back struck the wall with a thud that rattled her teeth. She crouched there, skin burning hot and pulse thundering as she took in the room before her— the room that he was now seeing too, with the rumpled bedcovers and the mustached man on all the screens telling her to grab her imaginary partner and swing them around. "Wha—where'd she go?" Thorne's voice came to her through the screen. "Honestly, Thorne." A girl. Linh Cinder? "Do you ever think before you speak?" "What? What did I say?" "'Is that all hair?'" "Did you see it? It was like a cross between a magpie nest and ball of yarn after it's been mauled by a cheetah." A beat. Then, "A cheetah?" "It was the first big cat that came to mind.

A hippie is someone who looks like Tarzan, walks like Jane and smells like Cheetah.

What are you?” I said irritably. “In the Serengeti, Ms. Lane, I would be the cheetah. I’m stronger, smarter, faster, and hungrier than everything else out there. And I don’t apologize to the gazelle when I take it down.

I ran like a cheetah - well, like a cheetah that smoked too much.

Izzy was utterly convinced. Never mind Arabian horses, African cheetahs. No creature in the world could bolt so quickly as a rake confronted with the word "marriage". They ought to shout it out at footraces rather than using starting pistols. Ready, steady... matrimony!

When I see a joyful, confident woman moving through the world with swagger, I’m going to forgive myself for my first reaction because it’s not my fault, it’s just my conditioning. First reaction: Who the hell does she think she is? Second reaction: She knows she’s a goddamn cheetah. Halle-fucking-lujah.

How do you separate a tiger's beauty from its ferocity? Or a cheetah's elegance from the speed of its attack? Achilles was like that -- the beauty and the terror were two sides of a single coin.

Kope!” the other guy yeled. “What the frick?! You got some cheetah blood in you or what?”“Seriously!” insisted Blake. “How did you run so fast?” “I am African.” Without taking his eyes from mine, Kopano eased himself off me, and I sat up.

You know, I’ve had a really wonderful night tonight. I got to tell Kyrian and Julian that Valerius is in town and spent, oh I don’t know, three, four hours trying to keep them from going after the Roman. Then, just when I could relax and do my job, I find out there are Daimons in the swamp and no Talon to kill them. And why wasn’t Talon here? Because Tarzan was swinging off a balcony to save Jane from Cheetah. Now all I can do is stand here and say, next fiasco, please, right this way. (Acheron)

Do I really run like that?" (Kitty) "Yup," Martini confirmed. "Don't worry, I think it's sexy." "Thank God. I think I look like a cheetah on drugs.

I can give or take elephants; I never can find the cheetah-but the zebras captivate me. They'd be one of the few things that would fit if we were lucky enough to live in a world that's black or white.

One downside of living with a Were-cheetah is that he purrs when he’s happy. At times, the apartment vibrated all day from MeShack’s enjoyment of life.

You are not crazy. You are a goddamn cheetah.

Someone once said to me: You never mention his looks. And it's true, I don't, I find it difficult. At that time, he was probably the most beautiful man alive, as he was certainly the most violent, but that's the problem. How do you separate a tiger's beauty from its ferocity? Or a cheetah's elegance from the speed of the attack? Achilles was like that- the beauty and the terror were two sides of a single coin.

We followed him through the wealthy splendor of the house. Hardwood floors. Custom carved woodworking. Statues. Fountains. Suits of armor. Original painting, one of them a van Gogh. Stained-glass windows. Household staff in formal uniform. I kept expecting to come across a flock of peacocks roaming the halls, or maybe a pet cheetah in a diamond-studded collar.

Dr. Peter Levine, who has worked with trauma survivors for twenty-five years, says the single most important factor he has learned in uncovering the mystery of human trauma is what happens during and after the freezing response. He describes an impala being chased by a cheetah. The second the cheetah pounces on the young impala, the animal goes limp. The impala isn’t playing dead, she has “instinctively entered an altered state of consciousness, shared by all mammals when death appears imminent.” (Levine and Frederick, Waking the Tiger, p. 16) The impala becomes instantly immobile. However, if the impala escapes, what she does immediately thereafter is vitally important. She shakes and quivers every part of her body, clearing the traumatic energy she has accumulated.

The cheetah. Ate. My finger.” The girl looks at each of us.“That’s what you’re telling me? That Jaxon’s Pandora ate the pinkie from my right hand? My writing hand?” “To be fair, he won it from M-4.

In a matter of a moment the amount of sand in the upper part of the hour-glass had dwindled dramatically, the tiny grains were rushing through the opening, each grain more eager to leave then the last, time is just like people, sometimes it’s all it can do to drag itself along, but at others, it runs like a deer and leaps like a young goat, which, when you think about it, is not saying much, since the cheetah is the fastest of all the animals, and yet it has never occurred to anyone to say of another person He runs and jumps like a cheetah, perhaps because that first comparison comes from the magical late middle ages, when gentlemen went deer-hunting and no one had ever seen a cheetah running or even heard of its existence. Languages are conservative, they always carry their archives with them and hate having to be updated.

In the hurtling pronghorn, the vanished predators have left behind a heartrending spectacle. Through the smoking displays of wild abandon runs a desperate spirit, resigned to racing pickup trucks in its eternal longing for cheetahs.

The four legs of the chair never move, but what if the chair could run as fast as a cheetah? That would be one piece of leopard print furniture I’d love to sit on.

I understand myself differently now. I was just a caged girl made for wide-open skies. I wasn’t crazy. I was a goddamn cheetah.

In Chloe, a great city, the people who move through the streets are all strangers. At each encounter, they imagine a thousand things about one another; meetings which could take place between them, conversations, surprises, caresses, bites. But no one greets anyone; eyes lock for a second, then dart away, seeking other eyes, never stopping. A girl comes along, twirling a parasol on her shoulder, and twirling slightly also her rounded hips. A woman in black comes along, showing her full age, her eyes restless beneath her veil, her lips trembling. At tattooed giant comes along; a young man with white hair; a female dwarf; two girls, twins, dressed in coral. Something runs among them, an exchange of glances link lines that connect one figure with another and draws arrows, stars, triangles, until all combinations are used up in a moment, and other characters come on to the scene: a blind man with a cheetah on a leash, a courtesan with an ostrich-plume fan, an ephebe, a Fat Woman. And thus, when some people happen to find themselves together, taking shelter from the rain under an arcade, or crowding beneath an awning of the bazaar, or stopping to listen to the band in the square, meetings, seductions, copulations, orgies are consummated among them without a word exchanged, without a finger touching anything, almost without an eye raised. A voluptuous vibration constantly stirs Chloe, the most chaste of cities. If men and women began to live their ephemeral dreams, every phantom would become a person with whom to begin a story of pursuits, pretenses, misunderstandings, clashes, oppressions, and the carousel of fantasies would stop.

Until humans came and made anthills out of these mountains, Diwan Sahib was saying, looking up at the langurs, the land had belonged to these monkeys, and to barking deer, nilgai, tiger, barasingha, leopards, jackals, the great horned owl, and even to cheetahs and lions. The archaeology of the wilderness consisted of these lost animals, not of ruined walls, terracotta amulets, and potsherds.

At age 43, when I decided to run again, I realized that the images used to describe runners didn't fit me. I wasn't a rabbit. I wasn't a gazelle or a cheetah or any of the other animals that run fast and free. But I wasn't a turtle or a snail either. I wasn't content anymore to move slowly through my life and hide in my shell when I was scared. I was a round little man with a heavy heart but a hopeful spirit. I didn't really run, or even jog. I waddled. I was a Penguin. This was the image that fit. Emperor-proud, I stand tallto face the elements of my life. Yes, I am round. Yes, I am slow. Yes, I run as thought my legs are tied together at the knees. But I am running. And that is all that matters.

Fred Astaire. Not a handsome man. He said himself he couldn’t sing. He was balding his whole life. He danced like a cheetah runs, with the grace of the first creation. I mean, that first week. On one of those days God created Fred Astaire. Saturday maybe, since that was the day for the pictures. When you saw Fred you felt better about everything. He was a cure. He was bottled in the films and all around the earth, from Castlebar to Cairo, he healed the halt and the blind. That’s the gospel truth. St Fred. Fred the Redeemer.

I felt alone on a Serengeti plain with a cheetah circling.

Pronghorn antelope were the second fastest mammals on earth—only an African cheetah could outrun them.

Think slowly like a snail, act fast like a cheetah.

I understand myself differently now. I was just a caged girl made for wide-open skies. I wasn't crazy. I was a goddamn cheetah.

I don't think my moped could outrun a cheetah." "Hun," Claire says. "There are more important things you need to outrun, and a moped isn't going to help you with any of those.

So much of human suffering stems from having this self that needs to be psychologically defended at all costs. We’re trapped in a story that sees ourselves as independent, isolated agents acting in the world. But that self is an illusion. It can be a useful illusion, when you’re swinging through the trees or escaping from a cheetah or trying to do your taxes. But at the systems level, there is no truth to it. You can take any number of more accurate perspectives: that we’re a swarm of genes, vehicles for passing on DNA; that we’re social creatures through and through, unable to survive alone; that we’re organisms in an ecosystem, linked together on this planet floating in the middle of nowhere. Wherever you look, you see that the level of interconnectedness is truly amazing, and yet we insist on thinking of ourselves as individual agents.” Albert Einstein called the modern human’s sense of separateness “a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.

All this is the carpet of life. You are sitting on it. Each of those knots represents one plant or animal. They, and the air we breathe, the water we drink, and our groceries are not manufactured. They are produced by what we call nature. This rug represents that nature. If something happens in Asia or Africa and a cheetah disappears, that is one knot from the carpet. If you understand that, you’ll realize that we are living on a very limited number of species and resources, on which our life depends.” In

Problems of Captive Breeding. We humans don’t like to have sex under the watchful eyes of others; some potentially valuable animal species don’t like to, either. That’s what derailed attempts to domesticate cheetahs, the swiftest of all land animals, despite our strong motivation to do so for thousands of years.

That’s when he finds them. Birds. Mammals. Reptiles. That one was George—a Cheetah with the most flaming fur. That one was Gogy—a gorilla with the clearest pair of eyes. That one was Ms. Mimbo—a hybrid of Macao and African Grey Parrot. And the one near the stone was … well, the Monk goes through around three dozen names. It took fifty years of careful watch to make sure they don’t go extinct. If you live long enough, you might, as well, end up befriending every life your neighboring forest holds. And if you are a war hero, you might even get professionals from the Wildlife Conservation Board to help you during their crossbreeding process. But they’re all dead.

Where I see real evil is in the witch burners. The righteous do-gooders. The Rick Santorums. Those are the people who scare me. And the people who hurt animals, the rich boys who fly to Africa to bag a cheetah or cut the tail off an elephant. Their lack of respect for the life around them I find disgusting. The most evil things are always at war with nature.

Left alone, the Florida panther would be remembered as a textbook exercise on how to go extinct while your abundant and vociferous advocates argue about the process.

I knew what she’d tell me. She’d say, “Something’s off about my life. I feel restless and frustrated. I have this hunch that everything was supposed to be more beautiful than this. I imagine fenceless, wide-open savannas. I want to run and hunt and kill. I want to sleep under an ink-black, silent sky filled with stars. It’s all so real I can taste it.” Then she’d look back at the cage, the only home she’s ever known. She’d look at the smiling zookeepers, the bored spectators, and her panting, bouncing, begging best friend, the Lab. She’d sigh and say, “I should be grateful. I have a good enough life here. It’s crazy to long for what doesn’t even exist.” I’d say: Tabitha. You are not crazy. You are a goddamn cheetah.

Women are described in animal terms as pets, cows, sows, foxes, chicks, serpents, bitches, beavers, old bats, old hens, mother hens, pussycats, cats, cheetahs, bird-brains, and hare-brains…‘Mother Nature’ is raped, mastered, conquered, mined; her secrets are ‘penetrated,’ her ‘womb’ is to be put into the service of the ‘man of science.’ Virgin timber is felled, cut down; fertile soil is tilled, and land that lies ‘fallow’ is ‘barren,’ useless. The exploitation of nature and animals is justified by feminizing them; the exploitation of women is justified by naturalizing them

Here's how it went down: Me standing by Sadie and her mom’s bestie, Taylor Rae Mayfield, the actress. Super cool. Talented. And always at Friday nights, so like family too. They were discussing how ridiculous it is that we feed cats grain-based food when they're pure carnivores, as if you'd ever feed a cheetah sliced bread.

Tain Shir walks the deck of RNS Sulane between the bombs and incendiaries and steel-tipped barbs. A weapon among weapons but she alone is free. The tragedy of the knife is the hilt. The tragedy of the crossbow is the trigger. Shir has neither. She cannot be gripped nor fired. She is unmastered. The sailors are rude with her. So be it. Etiquitte is the domain of those whose power is conditional upon the respect of others, and Shir is unconditional. If she drifted alone in the void beyond the moon or if she walked among the monarchs of the ancient Cheetah Palaces she would not be altered in her capabilities or her intentions, for not one truth of her resides within a relationship to any other thing.

First reaction: Who the hell does she think she is? Second reaction: She knows she’s a goddamn cheetah. Halle-fucking-lujah.

The cheetah dies once, the antelope a thousand times.

We want the qualities of fools that our faults devour, then us. (Nous voulons qualités des fous - Que nos défauts dévorent, puis nous.) (The Cheetah / Le Guépard)

that all hair?’” “Did you see it? It was like a cross between a magpie nest and ball of yarn after it’s been mauled by a cheetah.” A beat. Then, “A cheetah?

Note to future generations: In our time, are such things as credit cards. Company loans money, you pay back at high interest rate. Is nice for when you do not actually have money to do thing you want to do (for example, buy extravagant cheetah). You may say, safe in your future time: Wouldn’t it be better to simply not do things you can’t afford to do? Easy for you to say.

I love cheetahs. Every moment of every day is spent in fear of dying a terrible death yet they always carry themselves elegantly, remain loyal to their family, and never complain about anything.

The elephant is the largest, but not the fiercest. The giraffe is the tallest, but not the strongest. The cheetah is the fastest, but not the wisest. The ant is the smallest, but not the gentlest.

Do you ever think before you speak?” “What? What did I say?” “‘Is that all hair?’” “Did you see it? It was like a cross between a magpie nest and ball of yarn after it’s been mauled by a cheetah.

Cheetah Legs would like you to come push him. I repeat, Cheetah Legs needs a push.” “Are you on a swing?” he asks, like this sounds like a ludicrous thing for me to do as I wait for them to stagger over here.

I found the project to be a bit quiet (that is, dull), which may have led to the manuscript’s current confabulation—a pseudo autobiography in which the speaker portrays herself as a fifteen-year-old girl/cheetah amalgam.

A team of Harvard scientists had once verified exactly that point by sticking a rectal thermometer in a cheetah and getting it to run on a treadmill. Once its temperature hit 105 degrees, the cheetah shut down and refused to run.

About 15,000 years ago, the American West looked much as Africa’s Serengeti Plains do today, with herds of elephants and horses pursued by lions and cheetahs, and joined by members of such exotic species as camels and giant ground sloths.

Donald Trump telling Jimmy Fallon to be a “man”, is like a turtle telling a cheetah to “run faster”. Being a “man” means having compassion for children, not cheating on all of your wives, and being strong enough to admit your mistakes, rather than lying to cover them up!

For decades physicists have wondered why the four forces of nature appear to be so fragmented-why the "cheetah" looks so pitiful and broken in his cage. The fundamental reason why these four forces seem so dissimilar, notes Freund, is that we have been observing the "caged cheetah." Our three-dimensional laboratories are sterile zoo cages for the laws of physics. But when we formulate the laws in higher-dimensional space-time, their natural habitat, we see their true brilliance and power; the laws become simple and powerful. The revolution now sweeping over physics is the realization that the natural home for the cheetah may be hyperspace.

The zebras are the first stop in the Roger Williams Zoo. Of all the animals in the Africa section, these have always been my favorite. I can give or take the elephants; I can never find the cheetah-but the zebras captivate me. They'd be one of the few things that would fit if we were lucky enough to live in a world that's black and white.

In giving rise to man, the evolutionary process has, apparently for the first and only time in the history of the Cosmos, become conscious of itself. So, the Devil's Chaplain might conclude, Stand tall, Bipedal Ape. The shark may outswim you, the cheetah outrun you, the swift outfly you, the capuchin outclimb you, the elephant outpower you, the redwood outlast you. But you have the biggest gifts of all: the gift of understanding the ruthlessly cruel process that gave us all existence; the gift of revulsion against its implications; the gift of foresight — something utterly foreign to the blundering short-term ways of natural selection — and the gift of internalizing the very cosmos.

Because all that money wouldn’t be in the pot in the first place if you weren’t up against a pretty strong hand, you loose, dumb, tight-weak motherfucker!

The Lutz heck that emerges from his writings and actions drifted like a weather vane: charming when need be, cold-blooded when need be, tigerish or endearing, depending on his goal. Still, it is surprising that Heck the zoologist chose to ignore the accepted theory of hybrid vigor: that interbreeding strengthens a bloodline. He must have known that mongrels enjoy better immune systems and have more tricks up their genetic sleeves, while in a closely knit species, however "perfect," any illness that kills one animal threatens to wipe out all the others, which is why zoos keep careful studbooks of endangered animals such as cheetahs and forest bison and try to mate them advantageously. In any case, in the distant past, long before anyone was recognizably Aryan, our ancestors shared the world with other flavors of hominids, and interbreeding among neighbors often took place, producing hardier, nastier offspring who thrived. All present-day humans descend from that robust, talkative mix, specifically from a genetic bottleneck of only about one hundred individuals. A 2006 study of mitochondrial DNA tracks Ashkenazi Jews (about 92 percent of the world’s Jews in 1931) back to four women, who migrated from the Near East to Italy in the second and third centuries. All of humanity can be traced back to the gene pool of one person, some say to a man, some a woman. It’s hard to imagine our fate being as iffy as that, be we are natural wonders.

We think and believe that we are exceptional. We have created so many stories around how exceptional humans are. We were created by the hands of the divine, and the universe is our gift. We believe that it was all created to serve us, but the reality of the matter is, we are not exceptional except for our ability to kill beauty and destroy. We are not as fast as the gazelle or a cheetah; we can't fly like birds; we don't have fur to protect us in the cold; we don't have natural strength to lift heavy objects like a gorilla or an elephant. We created fables to explain our presence, even scientific ones that we can't prove. It is all unproven theories, on all sides. We are not exceptional; we are only exceptional when we work together and in sync with nature like every other creature.

Within a few months Mitch Bush, head veterinarian at the National Zoo, and David Wildt, a young reproductive physiologist working as a postdoctoral fellow in my laboratory at the National Cancer Institute, were on a plane bound for South Africa. Bush is a towering, bearded, giant of a man with a strong interest and acumen in exotic animal veterinary medicine, particularly the rapidly improving field of anesthetic pharmacology. Wildt is a slight and modest Midwestern farm boy, schooled in the reproductive physiology of barnyard animals. His boyish charm and polite shy demeanor mask a piercing curiosity and deep knowledge of all things reproductive. Bush and Wildt's expedition to the DeWildt cheetah breeding center outside Pretoria would ultimately change the way the conservation community viewed cheetahs forever.

The woman laughed again. She was the loudest person in the cave. Eena wondered if perhaps she was talking to a female Ghengat. Curiosity got the best of her and she turned around to look, surprised to find neither a Ghengat nor a Harrowbethian woman, but a Mishmorat. A striking, cheetah-spotted Mishmorat with straight lengths of charcoal hair and the most alluring dark eyes in existence. This bronzed female was the same size as Eena but observably more muscular. She appeared to be a mix of cheetah, Arabian princess, and gladiator in tight-fitting pants. Eena paused, dropping the stone in her hands. “Kira?” she breathed. “Hmmm,” the woman grumbled. Her painted eyes scrunched with displeasure. The look was still stunning. “I see my reputation precedes me.” Eena gawked as if a legendary ghost had been resurrected. “You’re alive?

Instead he lifted up his head and turned his neck so he could catch sight of the man just as he reached the back of the house—a darkly clothed figure with short legs and broad shoulders, his wide back hunched and powerful, running quite quickly despite a slight limp, ripping open the door with massive arms, tearing out into the light, glancing back with a quick twist of his huge neck before jumping like a cheetah over the fence.

Yet we are also drawn to people who are not exemplary, who do not illustrate good sense and responsibility, who are temperamental as stallions, mercurial as falcons, sensual as cheetahs. Before them we relax our compulsion to judge, no longer feel that they have a responsibility to answer to and for what they do and say. We are enthralled by the human animal, the animality in humans, the traits humans acquire in symbiosis with noble animals.

Ash laughed and playfully bumped Cael’s shoulder. “I’m going to have to agree with Dex. That’s adorable.” Even in his Therian form, Ash thought Cael was the sweetest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Cael could be in his Therian form among thousands of cheetahs, and Ash would be able to point him out. His little gestures, the heart shape of his nose, or the way he chirped away, as if anyone not in their Therian form might understand him if he tried hard enough. Dex

The Predators The African lion makes a kill only twice out of every ten hunts. Leopards do better, catching their prey twenty-five percent of the time, and cheetahs do best of all the big cats, with a kill ratio of nearly fifty percent. The deadliest four-legged African predator is not a big cat. It cannot be outrun or outdistanced, its pursuit is relentless, and it captures its prey nine out of every ten hunts. The most dangerous predator in Africa is the wild dog.

Field biologists studying large and charismatic animals wanted to know if their own species had genetic problems. I listened carefully to stories of koalas in Australia, giant pandas in China, black-footed ferrets in the Midwest, elephants, rhinos, and leopards in Africa, and orangutans in Asia--all threatened or endangered species attended by packs of worried field biologists. If cheetahs paid a price for their brush with extinction, did these species suffer the same?

If you try to sell rivers to oceans, they will mock you; fish to seas, they will belittle you; rocks to mountains, they will taunt you; clouds to skies, they will deride you; color to rainbows, they will revile you; stars to galaxies, they will chide you; wind to storms, they will denounce you; sand to deserts, they will ridicule you; speed to cheetahs, they will criticize you; venom to serpents, they will disparage you; beauty to stars, they will discredit you; pearls to oysters, they will berate you; trees to forests, they will spite you; birds to skies, they will disdain you; music to birds, they will dismiss you; wool to sheep, they will detest you; silk to spiders, they will defame you; seasons to nature, they will despise you; honey to bees, they will laugh at you; perfume to flowers, they will chuckle at you; fruit to trees, they will jeer at you; rain to clouds, they will scoff at you; fear to wolves, they will howl at you; and terror to lions, they will roar at you.

[Giant northern elephant seals] were presumed extinct as late as 1912 when a group of eight seals was spotted on Guadalupe Island in the South Pacific by a Smithsonian expedition, which shot seven of them! Fortunately they missed one and failed to spot a few others.

So, the Devil’s Chaplain might conclude, Stand tall, Bipedal Ape. The shark may outswim you, the cheetah outrun you, the swift outfly you, the capuchin outclimb you, the elephant outpower you, the redwood outlast you. But you have the biggest gifts of all: the gift of understanding the ruthlessly cruel process that gave us all existence; the gift of revulsion against its implications; the gift of foresight – something utterly foreign to the blundering short-term ways of natural selection – and the gift of internalizing the very cosmos. We are blessed with brains which, if educated and allowed free rein, are capable of modelling the universe, with its physical laws in which the Darwinian algorithm is embedded.

Language is a social energy, and our capacity for articulate speech is the key factor that makes us different from other species. We are not as fast as cheetahs – or even as horses. Nor are we as strong as bulls or as adaptable as bacteria. But our brains are equipped with the facility to produce and process speech, and we are capable of abstract thought. A bee may dance to show other bees the location of a source of food, a green monkey may deliver sophisticated vocal signals, and a sparrow may manage as many as thirteen different types of song, but an animal's system of communication has a limited repertoire; ours, on the other hand, is 'open', and its mechanisms permit a potentially infinite variety of utterances.

Over the past sixty years a rather impressive assembly of respectable taxonomists and evolutionary biologists have tried to unseat the biological species concept for a wide variety of reasons. Most of them failed, probably because Ernst Mayr is alive, adroit, and articulate at ninety-six years young as I write these words, and most critics are no match for him.

Gazelles have evolved an antipredator adaptation known as stotting.20 Stotting is a behavior in which the gazelles leap into the air, lifting all four legs simultaneously, land more or less on the same spot, and then bounce-leap on all fours several times. Gazelles stot only when they detect cheetahs. The tactic serves two possible functions. First, it alerts the cheetahs that they have been spotted and communicates that the hungry predators have lost the element of surprise—one of their key weapons. Second, it signals to the cheetahs that the gazelles are in excellent physical condition. It is as though the stotting gazelles are saying: “I am so athletic, so nimble, so fleet of foot, that you won’t be able to catch me. You are better off going after more catchable prey.” Stotting works. Cheetahs rarely go after gazelles after watching them stot.

The evidence of cheetah genetic monotony would only grow. Bob Wayne, a talented postdoctoral fellow in our lab, examined cranial measurements and the bilateral symmetry of cheetah skulls. Although no one is certain why, in most livestock, asymmetry in skeletal characteristics (the difference between right and left measures of a trait) increases with inbreeding. Bob measured sixteen bilateral traits in thirty-three cheetah skulls held in natural history museums in Washington, Chicago, and New York. The study was not perfect because several of the skulls were incomplete due to a bullet hole in the skull. Nonetheless, in nearly every case, cheetah skulls were more asymmetric compared to the skulls of leopards, ocelots, or margays. When I explained these skull results in a television interview, the correspondent asked, "Dr. O'Brien, are you telling me that these cheetahs are lopsided?" Not exactly, but the cheetahs certainly looked very inbred.

So much of human suffering stems from having this self that needs to be psychologically defended at all costs. We’re trapped in a story that sees ourselves as independent, isolated agents acting in the world. But that self is an illusion. It can be a useful illusion, when you’re swinging through the trees or escaping from a cheetah or trying to do your taxes. But at the systems level, there is no truth to it. You can take any number of more accurate perspectives: that we’re a swarm of genes, vehicles for passing on DNA; that we’re social creatures through and through, unable to survive alone; that we’re organisms in an ecosystem, linked together on this planet floating in the middle of nowhere. Wherever you look, you see that the level of interconnectedness is truly amazing, and yet we insist on thinking of ourselves as individual agents.” Albert Einstein called the modern human’s sense of separateness “a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.”*

The cause of these great extinctions, the most extensive in the seventy-million-year record for mammals, is a mystery. The two prevailing guesses, climatic environmental pressure or the destruction caused by human immigration in these regions, are at a stalemate. Nearly all regions of extinction were briefly inhabited by early humans, which is why some feel they played roles. I was not there at the time, so I can only speculate, but surely a global catastrophe of some sort triggered the cataclysm.

It seems a shame that less than 1 percent of all the species that ever lived survive today and that only about 5 percent of the sum of the world's living species have names. Yet, our preservation efforts must be built on a solid foundation: an ordered taxonomy of living species. So we are forced to do as politicians do--compromise and move forward--often before all the required data are at hand. Every good scientist I know finds such an exercise counterintuitive, difficult, and sometimes impossible. But the really good ones try anyway.

Bezos kept pushing for more. He asked Blake to exact better terms from the smallest publishers, who would go out of business if it weren't for the steady sales of their back catalogs on Amazon. Within the books group, the resulting program was dubbed the Gazelle Project because Bezos suggested to Blake in a meeting that Amazon should approach these small publishers the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle. As part of the Gazelle Project, Blake's group categorized publishers in terms of their dependency n Amazon and then opened negotiations with the most vulnerable companies. Three book buyers at the time recall this effort. Blake herself said that Bezos meant the cheetah-and-gazelle analogy as a joke and it was carried too far. Yet the program clearly represented something real--an emerging realpolitik approach toward book publishers, an attitude whose ruthlessness startled even some Amazon employees. Soon after the Gazelle Project began, Amazon's lawyers heard about the name and insisted it be changed to the less incendiary Small Publisher Negotiation Program.

The moonlight filtered through the trees like water from a strainer. Agatha’s hair was the color and consistency of wet noodles. I said she might look sexy as a redhead, and she asserted she’d be staying a creamy alfredo. I touched her tight skin they way a drummer might strum a guitar. She called me Mozart, and I didn’t know how to reply so I simply belched. Before I had finished, her open mouth was on mine, and she was huffing my essence like David Hasselhoff hoofing it to the liquor store. I remember what color panties she wore. They were transparent with the texture of flesh. I rubbed her back while she purred. Her skin was as soft as a fur coat. We made love for what seemed like days, but was in fact 3:58.95—a personal best for me. I felt like Roger Bannister, and she felt like a cheetah. Literally. I told her she’d look good on my rug, as a rug, and she playfully pinched the folds on my stomach. She explored my naval cavity with her pinky, and what started out as foreplay turned into a scavenger hunt. While she might have expected to find lint, nobody could have ever suspected she’d find the lost Templar treasure.

Taxonomy, also called systematics, is the science-based hierarchical classification of the world's species. The area had traditionally been an obscure academic discipline dominated by erudite and professional dons who would memorize and interpret thousands of Latin species names. Advances seldom made the newspapers and caustic disputes lingered in the dust scientific literature for generations. That academic innocence would be lost forever when precise taxonomic recognition of species and subspecies came to be the basis for protection under the Endangered Species Act.

A bird doesn't need a professor to teach it how to fly. A fish doesn't need a professor to teach it how to swim. A bee doesn't need a professor to teach it how to sting. A termite doesn't need a professor to teach it how to build. A spider doesn't need a professor to teach it how to weave. A cricket doesn't need a professor to teach it how to sing. A parrot doesn't need a professor to teach it how to mimic. A serpent doesn't need a professor to teach it how to bite. A chameleon doesn't need a professor to teach it how to camouflage. A sheep doesn't need a professor to teach it how to follow. A horse doesn't need a professor to teach it how to sprint. A monkey doesn't need a professor to teach it how to steal. A camel doesn't need a professor to teach it how to survive. A dog doesn't need a professor to teach it how to bark. A cheetah doesn't need a professor to teach it how to race. A fox doesn't need a professor to teach it how to scheme. A crocodile doesn't need a professor to teach it how to float. An hyena doesn't need a professor to teach it how to stalk. A panther doesn't need a professor to teach it how to strike. A wolf doesn't need a professor to teach it how to kill. A lion doesn't need a professor to teach it how to hunt.

Knock, knock. Who's there? A: Lettuce Q: Lettuce who? A: Lettuce in, it's freezing out here.. . 2. Q: What do elves learn in school? A: The elf-abet . 3. Q: Why was 6 afraid of 7? A: Because: 7 8 9 . . 4. Q. how do you make seven an even number? A. Take out the s! . 5. Q: Which dog can jump higher than a building? A: Anydog – Buildings can’t jump! . 6. Q: Why do bananas have to put on sunscreen before they go to the beach? A: Because they might peel! . 7. Q. How do you make a tissue dance? A. You put a little boogie in it. . 8. Q: Which flower talks the most? A: Tulips, of course, 'cause they have two lips! . 9. Q: Where do pencils go for vacation? A: Pencil-vania . 10. Q: What did the mushroom say to the fungus? A: You're a fun guy [fungi]. . 11. Q: Why did the girl smear peanut butter on the road? A: To go with the traffic jam! . 11. Q: What do you call cheese that’s not yours? A: Nacho cheese! . 12. Q: Why are ghosts bad liars? A: Because you can see right through them. . 13. Q: Why did the boy bring a ladder to school? A: He wanted to go to high school. . 14. Q: How do you catch a unique animal? A: You neak up on it. Q: How do you catch a tame one? A: Tame way. . 15. Q: Why is the math book always mad? A: Because it has so many problems. . 16. Q. What animal would you not want to pay cards with? A. Cheetah . 17. Q: What was the broom late for school? A: Because it over swept. . 18. Q: What music do balloons hate? A: Pop music. . 19. Q: Why did the baseball player take his bat to the library? A: Because his teacher told him to hit the books. . 20. Q: What did the judge say when the skunk walked in the court room? A: Odor in the court! . 21. Q: Why are fish so smart? A: Because they live in schools. . 22. Q: What happened when the lion ate the comedian? A: He felt funny! . 23. Q: What animal has more lives than a cat? A: Frogs, they croak every night! . 24. Q: What do you get when you cross a snake and a pie? A: A pie-thon! . 25. Q: Why is a fish easy to weigh? A: Because it has its own scales! . 26. Q: Why aren’t elephants allowed on beaches? A:They can’t keep their trunks up! . 27. Q: How did the barber win the race? A: He knew a shortcut! . 28. Q: Why was the man running around his bed? A: He wanted to catch up on his sleep. . 29. Q: Why is 6 afraid of 7? A: Because 7 8 9! . 30. Q: What is a butterfly's favorite subject at school? A: Mothematics. Jokes by Categories 20 Mixed Animal Jokes Animal jokes are some of the funniest jokes around. Here are a few jokes about different animals. Specific groups will have a fun fact that be shared before going into the jokes. 1. Q: What do you call a sleeping bull? A: A bull-dozer. . 2. Q: What to polar bears eat for lunch? A: Ice berg-ers! . 3. Q: What do you get from a pampered cow? A: Spoiled milk.

Governor Reagan delivered perhaps the most famous one-liner. A hippie, he said, is someone who "dresses like Tarzan, has hair like Jane, and smells like Cheetah.

To be sure, there are human abilities that other animals lack, but the more we learn about animals, the more abilities we discover that humans lack. Obviously, if animals were included in the Olympics, humans wouldn’t take home any gold medals. We can’t run as fast as a cheetah, swim as well as a fish, or lift as much weight as an elephant.

We are small, in-process versions of our big creator God. Flowers bloom, waterfalls cascade, cheetahs run fast, and birds fly high; but none of them is made in God’s image—only we are. And not only did He make us, but He also made us with a purpose: to reflect who He is and give Him glory with our lives. I’ll never forget watching the birth of each of my four children. How can it be that these little eternal beings, made in God’s image, who no one but God had ever met before, just popped out and showed up on planet Earth? To this day I still can’t quite comprehend it. I remember in particular the birth of my third child, Emmie. The minute she saw daylight, she looked around as if to say, “What’s going on around here? Who are you guys, and what are you talking about?” Like the rest of us, she will live her God-ordained years on Earth and, I hope, fulfill all the works that God has predestined for her (see Eph. 2:10). Then Emmie will go on to live forever in worlds unknown to carry out the mystery of God’s redemptive cosmic plan. Try to get your brain around that one! Oh, and beyond that, try to fathom the It’s a Wonderful Life phenomenon: The lives of everyone Emmie meets and interacts with during her lifetime will be altered and influenced in some way because she showed up on planet Earth that hot August day in 1997.

After the snap, Chad took off like a gazelle and the quarterback hurled a 30-yard bomb that rocketed straight to him. Fast as Chad was, Joshua ran him down like a Discovery Channel cheetah. It was no contest.

Why did all the animals in the Zoo refuse to play with Chester? Because he’s a Cheetah!

I shot a quick look at Logan to see how he reacted to that news and was met by the golden eyes of a Cheetah, sitting calmly on his chair. I guess I would have played animal charades if I could have, too, but it was hard to gauge the emotional reactions of an African predator. Liz

we have already discussed, being bipedal had other highly consequential costs and benefits for hominin bodies. The biggest disadvantage to being upright is the inability to run fast by galloping. The australopiths must have been slow. Whenever the australopiths ventured down from trees, they were easy pickings for such carnivores as lions, saber-toothed cats, cheetahs, and hyenas that hunt in open habitats. Perhaps they were able to sweat and thus could wait until midday to move about when these predators would have been unable to cool down as effectively. In terms of advantages, tramping around upright makes it easier to carry food, and a vertical posture exposes less surface area to the sun, which means that bipeds heat up less than quadrupeds from solar radiation.33 The final major advantage of being a biped, emphasized by Darwin, was that it freed the hands for other tasks, including digging. USOs often

We are unique not by comparison but by compassion (the moral of my book The Cheetah and the Snail)

Cheetahs, however, were avoided quite soon when it was discovered that their preferred choice of a meal was their own owners rather than the cheetah foods that were being served. Thus,

Rabbit is the youngest Savior, barely thirteen, and possibly the fastest creature I have ever seen. He’s undersized for his age and can outrun the wind. Ever since we read about a cheetah in an ancient book, he dreams of traveling to the far off land where cheetahs once roamed free. Unlike the cheetah, and lucky for us, Rabbit can go beyond a twenty second sprint and survive. Needless to say, he is the only one among us who could outrun the Sliman if it ever came to that.

Serpentine I am lost in your hair. I hide behind its spindly curtain, like a cheetah stalking the rangy savannah grasses, all seeing but unseen, an omniscient predator-cum-deity. I believe I have the advantage of speed, which fills me with cool confidence, a calm composure, as my tongue glides across the nape of your neck, like a salt lick, taking in its serpentine stroke only the essential.

A coward may have the legs of a cheetah, but time has the legs of lightning.

But if cheetahs don’t change their spots, then cruelty within humans has no chance. Melinda

Which big cat should you never play cards with? A: A cheetah!

At that time the North American continent was host to many large mammals, mammoths, mastodons, camels, horses, giant ground sloths and beavers the size of today’s black bears, saber-toothed cats, savage short-faced bears, cheetahs, lions and dire wolves. Scores of other large species roamed the continent as well. They all vanished about 12,000 years ago in a geological eye blink. Twenty- seven different mammalian genera were destroyed completely from North America.[473]

A gazelle on the African savannah is trying not to be eaten by cheetahs, but it is also trying to outrun other gazelles when a cheetah attacks. What matters to the gazelle is being faster than other gazelles, not being faster than cheetahs. (There is an old story of a philosopher who runs when a bear charges him and his friend. ‘It’s no good, you’ll never outrun a bear,’ says the logical friend. ‘I don’t have to,’ replies the philosopher, ‘I only have to outrun you.’)

Leopards did not chase prey like cheetahs, or stalk the tall grass like lions. The leopard simply set up on a wet spot, above the mud, out of sight, hidden. The leopard didn’t need a cheetah’s speed, or have to search for prey like a lion. The leopard knew if he staked out something his prey wanted, his prey would come to him.

pronghorns were the second fastest land animal on earth, after cheetahs

It's impossible to swim like a penguin and run like a cheetah.