Dinosaurs Baby Quotes

Babies don't come with instruction booklets. You'd learn the same way we all do -- you'd read up on dinosaurs, you'd Google backhoes and skidders. And you don't need a penis to go buy a baseball glove.

Did not learned men, too, hold, till within the last twenty-five years, that a flying dragon was an impossible monster? And do we not now know that there are hundreds of them found fossil up and down the world? People call them Pterodactyles: but that is only because they are ashamed to call them flying dragons, after denying so long that flying dragons could exist.

A bambiraptor is a savage baby dear.

Wesley went everywhere with me from then on. I even wrapped him in baby blankets and held him in my arms while grocery shopping, to keep him warm during the first cold winter. Occasionally someone would ask to see "the baby," and when I opened the blanket, would leap back shrieking, "What is that?! A dinosaur?" Apparently, the world is full of educated adults with mortgages and stock portfolios who think people are walking around grocery stores with dinosaurs in their arms.

It’s like howler monkeys crawled up a gorilla’s ass and had a dinosaur baby that fucked a radioactive Godzilla… and had an even worse baby. If any of that makes sense.

Giving Birth by Marcus Amaker do you remember when the earth was just a baby, settling in its skin, safe in the arms of mother nature with fire breathing from within. you were not shackled by time and life roamed around your heart with the weight of dinosaurs, leaving footprints in your lungs. and the first time you saw the sun you could barely breathe because the possibility of endless light planted a seed so you admire the strength of trees, who naturally grew into unwavering beauty, staring down the mouth of time. do you remember being 11 years old when your mother told you “birth is more painful than dying” and you burst with dreams without even trying, seeking light in your heart, where shadows now rest comfortably next to fear. but you come out of the woods clear, with nature’s breath under your tongue, and a weightless bliss, no longer scared of death.

Toys to deftly pluck up like animal crackers and deposit safely into a crate decorated with friezes of bright circus trains carrying aardvarks, dodos, swift dromedaries, baby elephants, and plastic dinosaurs. A box of mixed metaphors.

The emperor Caesar Augustus had a parakeet who greeted him daily, and after his victory over Mark Antony in Egypt in 29 B.C., he purchased a raven whose trainer had taught him to say “Ave, Caesar Victor Imperator.” (The trainer had wisely taught another bird to say “Ave, Victor Imperator Antoni” in case the battle went the other way.)

Hey!" Eddie said. The baby [T-Rex] lunged forward, and clamped its jaws around the ankle of his boot. He pulled his foot away, dragging the baby, which held its grip tightly. "Hey! Let go!" Eddie lifted his leg up, shook it back and forth, but the baby refused to let go. He pulled for a moment longer, then stopped. Now the baby just lay there on the ground, breathing shallowly, jaws still locked around Eddie's boot. "Jeez," Eddie said. Eddie looked down at the tiny, razor-sharp jaws. They hadn't penetrated the leather. The baby held on firmly. With the butt of his rifle, he poked the infant's head a couple times. It had no effect at all. The baby lay on the ground, breathing shallowly. Its big eyes blinked slowly as they stared up at Eddie, but it did not release its grip.

Never play the princess when you can be the queen: rule the kingdom, swing a scepter, wear a crown of gold. Don’t dance in glass slippers, crystal carving up your toes -- be a barefoot Amazon instead, for those shoes will surely shatter on your feet. Never wear only pink when you can strut in crimson red, sweat in heather grey, and shimmer in sky blue, claim the golden sun upon your hair. Colors are for everyone, boys and girls, men and women -- be a verdant garden, the landscape of Versailles, not a pale primrose blindly pushed aside. Chase green dragons and one-eyed zombies, fierce and fiery toothy monsters, not merely lazy butterflies, sweet and slow on summer days. For you can tame the most brutish beasts with your wily wits and charm, and lizard scales feel just as smooth as gossamer insect wings. Tramp muddy through the house in a purple tutu and cowboy boots. Have a tea party in your overalls. Build a fort of birch branches, a zoo of Legos, a rocketship of Queen Anne chairs and coverlets, first stop on the moon. Dream of dinosaurs and baby dolls, bold brontosaurus and bookish Belle, not Barbie on the runway or Disney damsels in distress -- you are much too strong to play the simpering waif. Don a baseball cap, dance with Daddy, paint your toenails, climb a cottonwood. Learn to speak with both your mind and heart. For the ground beneath will hold you, dear -- know that you are free. And never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.

The evening air smelled like secrets. The breeze that stirred his hair had been places Matt could only imagine. It had twined through trees and ushered clouds and whistled through caves. It had slid on its belly over desert sands and swirled snow on mountaintops. It had ruffled the feathers of baby eagles and extinguished the matches of sailors far out to sea. It had stolen balloons and floated bubbles. It was timeless. It had swept dust off the backs of dinosaurs, filled the lungs of pharaohs, and it would abrade the bones of the last human to fall on some distant, devastated plain. But tonight it was here, in this little town, fluttering curtains, rattling blinds, and caressing the face of a ten-year-old boy with a troubled mind.

My mom won’t let him.” I sighed. “She’s starting to really get on my nerves, too.” Krysta’s eyes widened. “Why?” “Ever since Rose Marie came home, it’s been Rose Marie this or baby that. You should see the money my mom has spent. She already bought a crib and they’re painting dinosaurs all over my bedroom. They didn’t even ask me.” “I don’t think it’s your bedroom anymore, Sophie,” Krysta reminded me. AJ leaned forward and narrowed her gaze. “You sound jealous, Sophie.” “Jealous?” I snapped, ready to tear off AJ’s head. “How could you say that, AJ? Why would you think I’m jealous? They’ve just thrown their lives down the toilet and you think I’m jealous?” AJ leaned back and shrugged. “You don’t have to get so defensive. It was just an observation.” “I’m not jealous.” The pitch in my voice rose. “It just pisses me off that Rose Marie screws up and she gets the royal treatment. Mom wouldn’t do that for me.” “Yep.” AJ waved her finger at me. “That’s jealousy.” “You

forward and kicked the shell off one side while head-butting the other. He was free. Spike’s brothers and sisters were all waiting for him on the outside. All ten siblings were now free of their enclosure. Spike’s mother started to clean the egg juice off his skin. Her tongue was long and sticky and it tickled Spike a lot. As she finished, she rubbed Spike with her nose and went to find food for her babies to eat. Spike watched her leave with amazement as he tried to understand this new world that surrounded him. His home was a nest of dirt

Pigeon racing was introduced to Taiwan from Japan at the turn of the last century; the country’s obsession with the sport really began only about forty years ago.

Gr-EEN! YEL-low! OR-ange!” Griffin cries in quick succession. He’s just naming random colors—all except the right one. Except, of course, his words aren’t really chosen at random. “You notice he always says the name of a color,” Arlene points out. “He understands the category.

The distance record holder was the black and white Arctic tern, with its 22,000-mile yearly journey between polar ice caps, but in fall 2006, a team of researchers published news of sooty shearwaters captured in their New Zealand breeding burrows and outfitted with satellite tracking devices. Flying in a giant figure eight over the Pacific basin, they journey 39,000 miles a year. (The birds can also dive beneath the ocean’s surface, searching for squid, to 225 feet.) In 2007, an even more astonishing record was established by a bar-tailed godwit. Satellite tracking allowed researchers to follow a female shorebird who flew 7,145 miles nonstop from Alaska to New Zealand. In nine days, she crossed the vast Pacific, without a single meal, rest, or drink.

Her father left school to join the navy in World War II and worked as a tool grinder and machine specialist at a knitting factory for twenty years—till it was bought by outsiders who closed it down. He lost his pension.

In the side yard are their aviaries, called mews.

They have the instinct to hunt and fly,” Nancy told me, “but how to hunt, they learn. It’s as if there’s some file folder in their heads about hunting success that they learn and never forget.

Together the pigeons and doves make up the family Columbidae, with three hundred species, from doves smaller than sparrows to the Victoria crowned pigeon, the size of a turkey.)

And long before the appearance of Archaeopteryx—whose scientific name means “first bird

Often we’re not even trying to exaggerate; we just can’t recall all the details of the story. Our memories aren’t perfect records of what happened. They’re more like dinosaur skeletons patched together by archeologists. We have the main chunks, but some of the pieces are missing, so we fill them in as best we can. We make an educated guess. But in the process, stories often become more extreme or entertaining, particularly when people tell them in front of a group. We don’t just guess randomly, we fill in numbers or information to make us look good rather than inept. The fish doubles in size. The baby didn’t wake just twice during the night—that wouldn’t be remarkable enough—she woke seven times and required skillful parenting each time to soothe her back to sleep.

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It’s like howler monkeys crawled up a gorilla’s ass and had a dinosaur baby that fucked a radioactive Godzilla…and had an even worse baby. If any of that makes sense.

brachiosaurus weighed about 77 tons, which is about 154 thousand pounds.

Our chicken is dinosaur shaped, sandwiches come with the crust cut off, and every pancake has mouse ears. It’s glamorous.

Feathers are nature's ultimate Swiss Army knife, multipurpose tools that can be used for display, insulation, protection for eggs and babies, and of course, flight.

The same wind that crept around the massive feet of the dinosaurs now swirls around the toes of baby koalas.