Cobra Snake Quotes

A snake that could harm you, you don’t have much choice to kill. You wouldn’t be able to leave a cobra in your sock drawer. But a snake that is no threat will greatly define the man who decides to kill it anyways.

So that's how you charm the cobra," I quip. He smiles devilishly. "If you really want to see what effect you have on my snake, I'd be happy to show you.

I walked over and looked closer at the statue of the goddess. She was wearing a headdress with a skull and a cobra and a crescent moon. Maybe this is what peace of mind was all about: having a poisonous snake on your head and smiling anyway.

What are the chances of a cobra biting Harold, Jeeves?" "Slight, I should imagine, sir. And in such an event, knowing the boy as intimately as I do, my anxiety would be entirely for the snake.

Zippers are primal and modern at the very same time. On the one hand, your zipper is primitive and reptilian, on the other mechanical and slick. A zipper is where the Industrial Revolution meets the Cobra Cult, don't you think? Ahh. Little alligators of ecstasy, that's what zippers are. Sexy, too. Now your button, a button is prim and persnickety. There's somethin' Victorian about a row o' buttons. But a zipper, why a zipper is the very snake at the gate of Eden, waitin' to escort a true believer into the Garden. Faith, I should be sewin' more zippers into me garments, for I have many erogenous zones that require speedy access. Mmm, old zipper creeper, hanging head down like the carcass of a lizard; the phantom viper that we shun in daytime and communicate with at night.

There are many dangerous serpents in India-the cobra, the boa, the python, water snakes, vipers, king cobras, and even some that fly.” That didn’t sound good at all. “What do you mean fly?” “Well, technically, they don’t really fly. They just glide to other trees, like the flying squirrel.” I sank lower in my seat and frowned. “What an exceptional variety of poisonous reptiles you have here.

All games have morals; and the game of Snakes and Ladders captures, as no other activity can hope to do, the eternal truth that for every ladder you climb, a snake is waiting just around the corner; and for every snake, a ladder will compensate. But it's more than that; no mere carrot-and-stick affair; because implicit in the game is the unchanging twoness of things, the duality of up against down, good against evil; the solid rationality of ladders balances the occult sinuosities of the serpent; in the opposition of staircase and cobra we can see, metaphorically, all conceivable oppositions, Alpha against Omega, father against mother; here is the war of Mary and Musa, and the polarities of knees and nose ... but I found, very early in my life, that the game lacked one crucial dimension, that of ambiguity - because, as events are about to show, it is also possible to slither down a ladder and climb to triumph on the venom of a snake ...

In her book Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion, Carol Tavris recounts a story about a Bengali cobra that liked to bite passing villagers. One day a swami—a man who has achieved self-mastery—convinces the snake that biting is wrong. The cobra vows to stop immediately, and does. Before long, the village boys grow unafraid of the snake and start to abuse him. Battered and bloodied, the snake complains to the swami that this is what came of keeping his promise. “I told you not to bite,” said the swami, “but I did not tell you not to hiss.” “Many people, like the swami’s cobra, confuse the hiss with the bite,” writes Tavris.

He saw virus particles shaped like snakes, in negative images. They were white cobras tangled among themselves, like the hair of Medusa. They were the face of nature herself, the obscene goddess revealed naked. This life form thing was breathtakingly beautiful. As he stared at it, he found himself being pulled out of the human world into a world where moral boundaries blur and finally dissolve completely. He was lost in wonder and admiration, even though he knew that he was the prey. (149)

During their colonial rule of India, the British government began to worry about the number of venomous cobras in Delhi. To reduce the numbers, they instituted a reward for every dead snake brought to officials. In response, Indian citizens dutifully complied and began breeding the snakes to slaughter and bring to officials. The snake problem was worse than when it started because the British officials didn’t think at the second level.

Now, personally, I’m not fond of huge snakes, especially ones with human heads and stupid hats. If I’d summoned this thing, I would’ve cast a spell to send it back, super quick. But Setne just rolled up his scroll, slipped it in his jacket pocket, and grinned. “Awesome!” The cobra lady hissed. “Who dares summon me? I am Wadjet, queen of cobras, protector of Lower Egypt, eternal mistress of—” “I know!” Setne clapped his hands. “I’m a huge fan!” I

A snake that could harm you, you don’t have much choice to kill. You wouldn’t be able to leave a cobra in your sock drawer. But snake that is no threat will greatly define the man who decides to kill it anyways.

A prickle of porcupines, a cackle of hyenas, a pounce of cats, a slither of snakes. But it’s a nest of vipers, a quiver of cobras, and a rhumba of rattlesnakes. They also have a parliament of owls and a congress of baboons, which I find insulting to baboons myself.

A dozen cobras moved as one, shattering their bottles. Wine and glass sprayed the room. The snakes sprang for Isyllt's attacker with fangs unfolded. He screamed high and sharp as they uncoiled, long slick bodies whipping through the air. She wasn't sure if their venom could survive death and pickling, but it didn't seem to matter. After several bites, he curled on the floor, weeping and trying to bat the undead snakes away.

Every old ruin in India becomes sooner or later a dwelling place of snakes, and the old summer-house was alive with cobras.

...and a snake of pale smoke uncoils like a cobra swaying to a flute.

When she comes down to supper I don't like her any better; in fact, a hell of a lot less. She's put on a shiny dress, all fishscales, like this was still India or the boat. On her head she's put a sort of beaded cap that fits close-like a hood. A mottled green-and-black thing that gleams dully in the candlelight. Not a hair shows below it, you can't tell whether she's a woman or what the devil she is. Right in front, above her forehead, there's a sort of question-mark worked into it, in darker beads. You can't be sure what it is, but it's shaped like a question mark. ("Kiss of the Cobra")

The moment I was old enough to play board games I fell in love with Snakes and Ladders. O perfect balance of rewards and penalties O seemingly random choices made by tumbling dice Clambering up ladders slithering down snakes I spent some of the happiest days of my life. When in my time of trial my father challenged me to master the game of shatranji I infuriated him by preferring to invite him instead to chance his fortune among the ladders and nibbling snakes. All games have morals and the game of Snakes and Ladders captures as no other activity can hope to do the eternal truth that for every ladder you climb a snake is waiting just around the corner and for every snake a ladder will compensate. But it's more than that no mere carrot-and-stick affair because implicit in the game is the unchanging twoness of things the duality of up against down good against evil the solid rationality of ladders balances the occult sinuousities of the serpent in the opposition of staircase and cobra we can see metaphorically all conceivable opposition Alpha against Omega father against mother here is the war of Mary and Musa and the polarities of knees and nose... but I found very early in my life that the game lacked one crucial dimension that of ambiguity - because as events are about to show it is also possible to slither down a ladder and lcimb to truimph on the venom of a snake... Keeping things simple for the moment however I recrod that no sooner had my mother discovered the ladder to victory represented by her racecourse luck than she was reminded that the gutters of the country were still teeming with snakes.

In her book Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion, Carol Tavris recounts a story about a Bengali cobra that liked to bite passing villagers. One day a swami—a man who has achieved self-mastery—convinces the snake that biting is wrong. The cobra vows to stop immediately, and does. Before long, the village boys grow unafraid of the snake and start to abuse him. Battered and bloodied, the snake complains to the swami that this is what came of keeping his promise. “I told you not to bite,” said the swami,

He spread out his hood more than ever, and Rikki-tikki saw the spectacle-mark on the back of it that looks exactly like the eye part of a hook-and-eye fastening. He was afraid for the minute, but it is impossible for a mongoose to stay frightened for any length of time, and though Rikki-tikki had never met a live cobra before, his mother had fed him on dead ones, and he knew that all a grown mongoose’s business in life was to fight and eat snakes. Nag knew that too and, at the bottom of his cold heart, he was afraid.

Snakes can lead to triumph, just as ladders can be descended: my grandfather, knowing I would die anyway, administered the cobra poison. The family stood and watched while poison spread through the child’s body … and six hours later, my temperature had returned to normal.

Traces of historical associations can long outlast actual contact. In the dense, subtropical forests from India across to the South China Sea, venomous snakes are common, and there is always an advantage in pretending to be something dangerous. The slow loris, a weird, nocturnal primate, has a number of unusual features that, taken together, seem to be mimicking spectacled cobras. They move in a sinuous, serpentine way through the branches, always smooth and slow. When threatened, they raise their arms up behind their head, shiver and hiss, their wide, round eyes closely resembling the markings on the inside of the spectacled cobra’s hood. Even more remarkably, when in this position, the loris has access to glands in its armpit which, when combined with saliva, can produce a venom capable of causing anaphylactic shock in humans. In behaviour, colour and even bite, the primate has come to resemble the snake, a sheep in wolf’s clothing. Today, the ranges of the loris and cobras do not overlap, but climate reconstructions reaching back tens of thousands of years suggest that once they would have been similar. It is possible that the loris is an outdated imitation artist, stuck in an evolutionary rut, compelled by instinct to act out an impression of something neither it nor its audience has ever seen.

In her book Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion, Carol Tavris recounts a story about a Bengali cobra that liked to bite passing villagers. One day a swami—a man who has achieved self-mastery—convinces the snake that biting is wrong. The cobra vows to stop immediately, and does. Before long, the village boys grow unafraid of the snake and start to abuse him. Battered and bloodied, the snake complains to the swami that this is what came of keeping his promise. “I told you not to bite,” said the swami, “but I did not tell you not to hiss.

A yellow-and-brown streak glided from the purple rustling stems to the bank, stretched its neck to the water, drank, and lay still—a big cobra with fixed, lidless eyes. ‘I have no stick—I have no stick,’ said Kim. ‘I will get me one and break his back.’ ‘Why? He is upon the Wheel as we are—a life ascending or descending—very far from deliverance. Great evil must the soul have done that is cast into this shape.’ ‘I hate all snakes,’ said Kim. No native training can quench the white man’s horror of the Serpent. ‘Let him live out his life.’ The coiled thing hissed and half opened its hood. ‘May thy release come soon, brother!’ the lama continued placidly. ‘Hast thou knowledge, by chance, of my River?’ ‘Never have I seen such a man as thou art,’ Kim whispered, overwhelmed. ‘Do the very snakes understand thy talk?’ ‘Who knows?’ He passed within a foot of the cobra’s poised head. It flattened itself among the dusty coils. ‘Come, thou!’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Not I,’ said Kim. ‘I go round.’ ‘Come. He does no hurt.’ Kim hesitated for a moment. The lama backed his order by some droned Chinese quotation which Kim took for a charm. He obeyed and bounded across the rivulet, and the snake, indeed, made no sign.

Chicken Roast Puff your plume in anger and fight, cock, delight the owner of knife smear sting with pollen and flap your wings As I said: Twist the arms and keep them bent roll the rug and come down the terrace after disturbed sleep Shoeboots-rifle-whirring bullets-shrieks The aged undertrial in the next cell weeps and wants to go home Liberate me let me go let me go home On its egg in the throne the gallinule doses asphyxiate in dark fight back, cock, die and fight, shout with the dumb Glass splinters on tongue-breast muscles quiver Fishes open their gills and enfog water A piece of finger wrapped in pink paper With eyes covered someone wails in the jailhouse I can't make out if man or woman Keep this eyelash on lefthand palm- and blow off with your breath Fan out snake-hood in mist Cobra's abdomen shivers in the hiss of female urination Deport to crematorium stuffing blood-oozing nose in cottonwool Shoes brickbats and torn pantaloons enlitter the streets I smear my feet with the wave picked up from a stormy sea That is the alphabet I drew on for letters. (Translation of Bengali original 'Murgir Roast')

The sky is a dark bowl, the stars die and fall. The celestial bows quiver, the bones of the earthgods shake and planets come to a halt when they sight the king in all his power, the god who feeds on his father and eats his mother. The king is such a tower of wisdom even his mother can't discern his name. His glory is in the sky, his strength lies in the horizon like that of his father the sungod Atum who conceived him. Atum conceived the king, but the dead king has greater dominion. His vital spirits surround him, his qualities lie below his feet, he is cloaked in gods and cobras coil on his forehead. His guiding snakes decorate his brow and peer into souls, ready to spit fire against his enemies. The king's head is on his torso. He is the bull of the sky who charges and vanquishes all. He lives on the stuff of the gods, he feeds on their limbs and entrails, even when they have bloated their bodies with magic at Nesisi, the island of fire. He cooks the leftover gods into a bone soup. Their souls belong to him and their shadows as well. In his pyramid among those who live on the earth of Egypt, the dead king ascends and appears forever and forever.

Nyoka ni mnyama mdogo lakini anayeogopwa hata na majambazi wakubwa. Adui wa dirishani alipogeuka kumwangalia Murphy, alimwangalia pia mwenzake na kucheka bila Murphy kujua kilichofanya wafurahi. Ghafla, kuna kitu kilitokea! Nyoka mkubwa aina ya swila aliruka toka dirishani na kuanguka katika mabega ya yule adui. Adui aliruka kwa woga na kuanguka chini … halafu yakatokea maajabu! Bunduki ilifyatuka kutoka nje, ikaripuka kwa sauti ya juu, walinzi wote wa Murphy wakaruka na kuanguka chini shaghalabaghala, na kufa papo kwa papo!

For decades, Haast has been immunizing himself to elapid (like cobras, kraits and coral snakes) venom by regularly injecting a very dilute cocktail of venoms. The process is called mithridatization after King Mithridates VI of ancient Turkey who was apparently the first to try it.

master the flute?” Shay mastered instruments the way linguists mastered languages. “I’m not sure what’s next. Maybe the sax?” Shay glanced toward the ceiling thoughtfully as she spoke. “Unless I got some snakes to accompany me.” “I think you’ll need some new sheet music for that. You don’t see serpents swaying to the classical beat. And I’m sure your mom would just love having a cobra take up residence in your room.” Shay gave Raj a blank stare. “Mom’s not afraid of snakes.” Shay Baxter had been Raj’s best

Secrets, like invisible snakes, can slither, coil and entwine themselves leaving a serpentine trail throughout our souls. We can mentally ignore the small garden-variety secrets, with ease into our daily lives. While some are like cobras, their venom poisoning every daily thought and interaction with friends and family. They are spirit crushers that suck the joy out of us until we contemplate suicide or turn inward to madness. Secrets kept with the best of intentions, can resurface and become lethal to those they were meant to protect. Family secrets are the most venomous of all.

Exodus 7:8–13 relates the story of Moses and Aaron changing their staff into a serpent.8 This activity by the Hebrew leaders is an attack on Pharaoh and the Egyptians, and it strikes at the very heart of Egyptian belief. In the first place, on the front of Pharaoh’s crown was an enraged female serpent/cobra called a uraeus. The Egyptians believed this serpent was energized with divine potency and sovereignty. It was considered the very emblem of Pharaoh’s power; it symbolized his deification and majesty. “When Moses had Aaron fling the rod-snake before Pharaoh, he was directly assaulting that token of Pharaonic sovereignty—the scene was one of polemical taunting. When Aaron’s rod swallowed the staffs of the Egyptian magicians, Pharaonic deity and omnipotence were being denounced and rejected outright. . . . Yahweh alone was in control of the entire episode.” 9

One of the Indian boys says we must not pile any more wood,” said Kitty. “Why?” She looked at William angrily as if she expected he would lie to her no matter what. William was tired of trying to smooth things over. It was impossible in such a place. So he said simply, “Piles of wood on this barren ground attract cobras.” “Poisonous snakes,” muttered Kitty. “What else?” “I am going to pray every moment of every day For God to deliver me from this place,” muttered Dolly as she rose to put Jabez to bed. One

As well as being an abstract force, there was a god called Heka who personified magic. Heka helped ensure the harmony of the cosmos and acted as a conduit through whom worshippers could seek divine favors. He had a female counterpart, Weret-hekau (Great of Magic), who was depicted in the form of a cobra. It is thought that the snake-headed staffs often used by ancient Egyptian magicians may have represented her.

Lydia Bach says the method is a combination of modern ballet, yoga, orthopedic exercise, and sex,” wrote the Times. “Sex? Well, the windup of each class is a sort of belly dance done from a kneeling position. It looks like the undulations of a snake charmer’s cobra and is said to do wonders for the waistline.” Classes were small and expensive.

The elapids as a group are dangerous animals. They include the most terrifying of all snakes, the king cobra (Ophiophagus hannah). This species fully deserves its regal status. It is easily the biggest of all venomous snakes, reaching a length of 5.5 metres. It is thought to be among the most intelligent of all reptiles. If threatened it rears up almost to the height of a man, spreads its neck into a hood and growls loudly. It is the only snake to make a nest of leaves for its eggs. This it will actively defend against intruders of all kinds, including elephants which it can kill with a bite on their trunk. And its main food is other snakes-pythons, rat snakes and even other lesser cobras.

The most elaborate way of delivering venom has been evolved by yet another family of snakes, the vipers. These include, as well as several different species of viper, such feared creatures as the bushmaster, the fer-de-lance, puff adders and rattlesnakes. The fangs of a king cobra are little more than a centimetre in length. The Gaboon viper (Bitis gabonica), by contrast, which is less than a third of the king cobra’s size, has fangs four times longer. They are so big that if they were fixed in their sockets the snake would be unable to shut its mouth. But they have hinges at their base so that they can fold back and lie, each sheathed in a scabbard of mucous membranes, along the roof of the mouth. Furthermore, a viper can control every element in the movement of its fangs. It can open its mouth until its gape is effectively 180 degrees wide and not even erect its fangs. It can also bite without discharging any venom. And it can bring each fang forwards separately or together. The fangs themselves are shed every six to ten weeks and replaced with new ones that appear alongside the old.

Do you think I have good character?” “The best.” Smiling, she ran her fingers down my cheek and tapped the cobra’s face. “I’m really loyal,” Lark said, focusing on the snake instead of me. “My mom said I get stuck in the mud a lot. If I like something, I just like it forever. I don’t change. I wasn’t just saying that the first night.” Leaning down, I kissed her “And you like me?” “I should play coy, right? I should make you work for it, but I can’t. I don’t want to lie, so I’ll just tell the truth. I like you more than I’ve liked any guy ever. I’m a little obsessed with you. Like if you dumped me, I would stalk you.” My smile widened. “Your honesty is really hot.” “Would you stalk me if I dumped you?” “Of course not,” I said, pulling a blanket over us. “I wouldn’t need to because I’d kidnap you and keep you as my muse slave.” “I’d escape. I’m wily like that.” “I bet you would, but we’ll never have to find out.” Lark and I stared at each other as if waiting for the other one to be brave enough to say it. “You’re mine,” I whispered. “No one else.” Lark gave a gentle smile like in the studio. “I love you too.” Finally, it was out in the open. The words sounded perfect and natural. “I loved you last weekend,” I admitted. “I should have said that, but I was a jackass.” “I loved you on our first date. I would have mentioned it, but I’m a bigger jackass.” Laughing, I leaned her back on the couch. “I want to celebrate the love between two jackasses.” “No,” she said, squirming free. “I want to be on top. I like exploring.” “And what you like, you’ll always like.” Tugging off her tee, Lark grinned. “I’ll be an old woman and still enjoying my cobra. Oh, and the hot guy attached to it.

please tell me your definition of ahimsa.” “The avoidance of harm to any living creature in thought or deed.” “Beautiful ideal! But the world will always ask: May one not kill a cobra to protect a child, or one’s self?” “I could not kill a cobra without violating two of my vows — fearlessness, and non-killing. I would rather try inwardly to calm the snake by vibrations of love. I cannot possibly lower my standards to suit my circumstances.

The Spitting Cobra can spit its venom up to 6feet (1.8m) with perfect aim!

the cobra effect.” As the story goes, a British overlord in colonial India thought there were far too many cobras in Delhi. So he offered a cash bounty for every cobra skin. The incentive worked well—so well, in fact, that it gave rise to a new industry: cobra farming. Indians began to breed, raise, and slaughter the snakes to take advantage of the bounty. Eventually the bounty was rescinded—whereupon the cobra farmers did the logical thing and set their snakes free,

Mike stood in the yard. TCT leaned against his ankle, a king cobra dangling from his mouth. "Looks like your kitty got himself a baby garter snake. They're all over the place. He's going to love it here.

Sometimes you have to be satisfied just to know that cobra venom is deadly. It's not always efficacious to study the snake face to face. You have to balance what you might learn against the known chance of getting bit.

I loved to dance for myself, but also for a man. Since the beginning of time, men have loved watching women dance – losing their minds, entranced like cobras hypnotised by snake charmers.

The most profound religious symbols rely for their power in large part on this underlying fundamentally bipartisan conceptual subdivision. The Star of David is, for example, the downward pointing triangle of femininity and the upward pointing triangle of the male.*1 It’s the same for the yoni and lingam of Hinduism (which come covered with snakes, our ancient adversaries and provocateurs: the Shiva Linga is depicted with snake deities called the Nagas). The ancient Egyptians represented Osiris, god of the state, and Isis, goddess of the underworld, as twin cobras with their tails knotted together. The same symbol was used in China to portray Fuxi and Nuwa, creators of humanity and of writing. The representations in Christianity are less abstract, more like personalities, but the familiar Western images of the Virgin Mary with the Christ Child and the Pietà both express the female/male dual unity, as does the traditional insistence on the androgyny of Christ.43

From the door, I glance back at the dragon cobra lying dead at the sultan’s feet and wonder what the snake did wrong besides being exactly as the gods intended.

Snakes are one of my least favorite creatures in the world, but I was still aghast to see that the snake charmers, so popular in the Moroccan tourist markets, sewed the mouths of the cobras shut. This surgery was performed as a safety precaution to prevent the snakes from biting the snake handlers and the onlookers, but it also prevented the hapless reptiles from eating.

A Redfang cobra tat peeks from his unbuttoned collar. I zero in on the spot as I reach for my gun. “Ten points if I hit a snake eye.” “A hundred points if you stop talking.” I shut up. Points can be exchanged for nachos.

You can order cobra blood wine in Vietnam with the snakes heart

Cobra snakes, in order to bite you at all, must get a part of you such as a finger, nose, breast or penis in their mouth.

All snakes are deadly. And there're only two kinds. Cobras and rattlesnakes," she said stoically. "Oh, come on. There's a million kinds of snakes and more that are harmless than the bad kind." "Nope, this is where we disagree. If it's not a rattlesnake then it's a cobra and I want them all dead. I don't care if it upsets Mother Nature's plan for the earth. I don't care if there's an overflow of mice. I'll buy rat traps or let my cat, Patches, in the house to eat them. Snakes are horrible and I hate them

Do you mind if I ask how strong you are right now?” Fay questioned, her tone laced with curiosity. I shook my head. “You can ask, but I honestly don’t know how strong I am at the moment. I haven’t had a chance to really test myself against anyone.” “Oh…” Fay looked disappointed. However, before she could get too sad, something caught her attention, causing her to gawk at me. “Do you mind if I ask another question?” I shrugged. “Go ahead.” “Why is there a snake hovering over your shoulder?” … … I slowly craned my neck and found a snake centimeters away from my face. It was a pretty unusual snake. It looked like a member of the cobra family, but it was too long at almost six meters in length. Bright black and yellow scales covered most of its body. Two eyes that appeared somewhat golden in the sunlight were staring at me. The snake flicked out its forked tongue and licked my cheek. I turned back to look at Fay. “Don’t mind the snake,” I said in a nonchalant tone. “It just likes to follow me around.

To the Hindu mind there was no real gap between animals and men; animals as well as men had souls, and souls were perpetually passing from men into animals, and back again; all these species were woven into one infinite web of Karma and reincarnation. The elephant, for example, became the god Ganesha, and was recognized as Shiva’s son; he personified man’s animal nature, and at the same time his image served as a charm against evil fortune. Monkeys and snakes were terrible, and therefore divine. The cobra or naga, whose bite causes almost immediate death, received especial veneration; annually the people of many parts of India celebrated a religious feast in honor of snakes, and made offerings of milk and plantains to the cobras at the entrance to their holes. Temples have been erected in honor of snakes, as in eastern Mysore; great numbers of reptiles take up their residence in these buildings, and are fed and cared for by the priests.