Pogo Quotes

If he says jump, she doesn't even ask "How high?" She goes out and buys a pogo stick.

Holy Moses on a pogo stick!!

I wished I had put more cherries on that slice. The whole jar of cherries. I could watch him eat a whole jar of cherries. Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, what was happening to me?

This book is written in blood. Is it written entirely in blood? No, some of it is written in tears. Are the blood and tears all mine? Yes, they have been in the past, but the future is a different matter. As the bear swore in Pogo after having endured a pot shoved on her head, being turned upside down while still in the pot, a discussion about her edibility, the lawnmowering of her behind, and a fistful of ground pepper in the snoot, she then swore a mighty oath on the ashes of her mothers (i.e. her forebears) grimly but quietly while the apples from the shaken apple tree above her dropped bang thud on her head: OH, SOMEBODY ASIDES ME IS GONNA RUE THIS HERE PARTICULAR DAY.

Guys like him really shouldn’t be allowed on motorcycles. They should have to bounce around on pogo sticks, or better: Hippity Hops. And no hot guy should be allowed to have an English accent and drive a motorcycle. Not to mention wear the leather jacket or sport the cool shades. Hot guys should be forced into footie pajamas.

If you can't win, don't join them; learn how to lose.

In her experience every man thought he was a natural dancer, and every one thought he was good in bed. The truth was that most men only knew one dance step—usually the pogo—and between the sheets they were like a monkey in a nature film poking at an anthill with a stick.

Don't take life so serious, son...it ain't no how permanent. --Porky Pine, June 19-24, 1950

The senior wizard in a world of magic had the same prospects of long-term employment as a pogo stick tester in a minefield

My novel is sponsored by Tampax. It’s the story of three generations of women and spans three decades. That’s a lot of menstruation. So every time a character rides the cotton pogo stick—Voilà! Tampax.

Dipping a cockroach in ink and having it scamper around the page would have left more legible traces to the average reader.

We have met the enemy and it is us.

What can I possibly have in common with perpetrators of murder and torture?” It is much more reassuring to believe that they are evil and be done with them.14 We dare not let a glimmer of their humanity in the door, because it might force us to face the haunting truth of cartoonist Walt Kelly’s great character Pogo, who famously said: “We have met the enemy and he is us.

The peddling of fear in any form as incentive to faith remains the most egregious sin that can be committed in the name of Jesus. It feels very good to name the enemy and thank God that you are not like “those people.” But if Christianity is to survive, someone needs to stand up in the middle of one of these hapless sermons and quote the comic-strip character Pogo: “We have met the enemy, and he is us.

We are confronted by insurmountable opportunities.” —Walt Kelly (Pogo)

Everyone, Pax believed, was more than she or he appeared to be, and one of the saddest things about the human condition was that most people never realized what talents, capacities, and depth they possessed. That Pogo had taken a full measure of himself must be one reason that Bibi so loved him.

Oop—I is tripped.

...socialism had somehow made time more flexible. There were often situations when 1 PM and 5 PM were interchangeable.

Language skill requires a bit of knowledge about how we answer the question: How do you know that Blumph is true? Plus a smidgen of Logic. B.S. Detecting gives you this because without it, Pogo's Owl may be talking about you: "You may as well quit your thinkin'. It ain't improvin' your talkin' none.

Scuse me—gotta hurry home—left the chillun on the stove.

Now, really, how arch Can you be when you march With a sword, With a spear? You belong To a curious team, You're in the extreme, Maybe left, Maybe right, Maybe wrong.

Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick, did that ship just fire a spread of torpedoes at us?

He just shook his head and let his smile grow bigger. There was something about her that made him feel like his heart was bouncing on a pogo stick.

We have met the enemy and he is us. —Pogo

Since he didn't enjoy having things with so many teeth and claws trying to kill him, he summoned the first thing he could think of with his magic and tossed it at the mutants. Unfortunately for him, it was a pogo stick.

She touched me once And life then stopped. She held my hand, My frog heart hopped. She left my mouth And formed a smile With lips that promised: “In a while.” I look, I hope, I stand, a dunce— Where is the one who touched me once?

She nodded, and moved towards the door. “I’ll turn this top light out. Don’t stay up too long. Sure you’ve got everything you want?” “Sure, honey,” he said. “I’ve got everything now.” “Good night,” she said. She closed the door behind her. He lay for some time in the firelight thinking of Sharon and of Helen, of bright summer days and tall ships at Mystic, of Helen leaping on the Pogo stick on the swept sidewalk with the piles of snow on either hand, of this girl and her kindness. Presently he drifted into sleep, one hand upon the Pogo stick beside him.

But there’s no room at all for free spirits in modern academia, with its speech codes and humorless moralizing. So she makes two lives for herself, or three for all we know, or four, and in the end there’s no satisfaction in being multiple Solange St. Croixs instead of one.” Pogo

Yowpee! I pulls my brandin' irons an' comes out a-bitin' the dust—a reg'lar Hoopalong Cassowary!

Albert made of solid alligator—he heavy.

Wherein our boys take a running start at a dead end

She doesn’t drink when she’s driving. Best move I ever made, teaching her the basics of the internal combustion engine. Saved my life on a number of occasions.

Hemos conocido al enemigo, y somos nosotros

Lord Vetinari, as supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork, could in theory summon the Archchancellor of Unseen University to his presence and, indeed, have him executed if he failed to obey. On the other hand Mustrum Ridcully, as head of the college of wizards, had made it clear in polite but firm ways that he could turn him into a small amphibian and, indeed, start jumping around the room on a pogo stick.

-Soy una inútil... soy pésima... no tengo nada de especial. No soy como los otros... no puedo hacer nada... -Tienes razón. No eres como los demás. No necesitas destruir nada para demostrarte nada. Tú eres especial.

Something about the countryside released the emotions that remained bottled in the city. Perhaps he wasn’t just sad for the plight of these friends, perhaps it was a global, all-encompassing sadness that included this whole country, and the hopelessness of life, and the fact that there would never really be peace in the world because man was intrinsically stupid.

Migrating moose on a pogo stick.

Gold is for hoarders who expect to trade glittering bars for stale bread after a financial Armageddon. Or it’s for people trying to “time” gold’s movements by purchasing it on an upward bounce, with the hopes of selling before it drops. That’s not investing. It’s speculating. Gold has jumped up and down like an excited kid on a pogo stick for more than 200 years. But after inflation, it hasn’t gained any long-term elevation. I prefer the Tropical Beach approach: Buy assets that have proven to run circles around gold (rebalanced stock and bond indexes would do). Lay in a hammock on a tropical beach. Soak in the sun and patiently enjoy the long-term profits.

The end of the war marked the end of the bands. Glenn Miller had been lost over the English Channel in 1944. Artie Shaw had disbanded and regrouped and disbanded again. Though name leaders like Goodman and Basie and Harry James would always find work, the financial base eroded and the labor troubles lingered. When Petrillo called a second strike in 1948, the die was cast. Perhaps, as Barnouw said, the cause was just and the problem serious, but in the end the strikes hurt no one more than the union’s own membership. As Pogo put it, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.

Motives are story mechanics, pillars of structural necessity. Without them, you’re fuckled, sideways…With a giant piranha covered pogo stick.

Call a timeout. Call a timeout. For the love of sweet baby Jesus on a pogo stick, call a timeout.

We rocked and jounced like an idiot on a pogo stick, or a mountain goat leaping across a drainage gulley, and finally got some paving under us again.

This is one of the most thoroughly documented findings in social psychology, but it is also the most difficult for many people to accept because of the enormous dissonance it produces: “What can I possibly have in common with perpetrators of murder and torture?” It is much more reassuring to believe that they are evil and be done with them.14 We dare not let a glimmer of their humanity in the door, because it might force us to face the haunting truth of cartoonist Walt Kelly’s great character Pogo, who famously said: “We have met the enemy and he is us.

I wouldn’t have noticed a T-rex on a pogo stick.

We have met the enemy and he is us. —POGO (COMIC-STRIP CHARACTER CREATED BY WALT KELLY

The eleventh day of the eleventh month has always seemed to me to be special. Even if the reason for it fell apart as the years went on, it was a symbol of something close to the high part of the heart. Perhaps a life that stretches through two or three wars takes its first war rather seriously, but I still think we should have kept the name "Armistice Day." Its implications were a little more profound, a little more hopeful.

have never had a poodle but I know that they are very special dogs. People who have poodles are crazy about them and often have more than one! My friend Annie loves her two black miniature poodles, Oggi and Pearl. They are so smart and funny and they love to curl up in your lap just like a cat would. And my friend Leda has two golden doodles, Pippa and Pogo. They love to play together. Even though they are only half poodle (the other half is golden retriever), they have to be groomed every ten weeks, just like poodles do. Yours from the Puppy Place, Ellen Miles P.S.

The senior wizard in a world of magic had the same prospects of long-term employment as a pogo stick tester in a minefield.

In April 1968, a test launch with an unmanned Apollo 6 capsule aboard suffered from a “pogo effect.” Unnerved NASA engineers watched as their thirty-six-stories-tall rocket bounced across the pad for half a minute before finally achieving liftoff.

Not that it would matter one way or another, since he fell for unwashed-ponytail-and-three-day-old-scrubs Jeyne. But still. Guys appreciate effort, even if they wouldn’t know fashion if it bounced past them naked on a pogo stick.

To stand in the pit, shoulder to shoulder, sweating and singing with people you hardly know is an amazing thing. “I’m such a bad singer that I hardly sing around my own home but I have no trouble screeching at the top of my lungs in a huge stadium. In that sense a Springsteen concert is kind of a religious thing. Everyone knows what and when to sing, when to raise their arms, to pogo-dance, when to be silent and respectful. The music of course also makes you feel connected to something ‘higher’.

Lube me up and make me slick. I want to take a ride on your pogo stick.” Sloane

His faded jeans sat low on his hips and he wore brown, lace-up boots. He also had on black reading glasses, and jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, he looked good.

We have met the enemy and he is us.”—Walt Kelly (Pogo)

Georgia: In Athens, Mike Gira jumped off the stage and pushed someone who was pogoing to their music, then he returned to the stage and apologized … Mike thought the guy was a poser who was making fun of him. In reality he was a nerd and Mike had never seen a nerd before.

Pogo was right when he proclaimed, “I have met the enemy, and it is us.

The crucified figure had not been idle. A series of elaborate twists activated a cunning mechanism; the base of the cross blew apart, revealing a winding metal spring at the base. At the same time, there was a whir of machinery, a grinding sound of metal against metal, and a series of spindly steel tubes emerged from the head and arms of the cross; and as the jolly old elf grunted and arched his back, the giant laser-mounted pogo stick heaved into the air, leaving in its wake waves of devastation, and a merry, menacing cry of “Ho-ho-ho!

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Parenthood is a walk in the park... A park full of scorpions that you can't leave without jumping through fiery hoop on a pogo stick.

Attend a university if you possibly can. There is no content of knowledge that is not pertinent to the work you will want to do. But before you attend a university work at something for a while. Do anything. Get a job in a potato field; or work as a grease-monkey in an auto repair shop. But if you do work in a field do not fail to observe the look and the feel of earth and of all things that you handle — yes, even potatoes! Or, in the auto shop, the smell of oil and grease and burning rubber. Paint of course, but if you have to lay aside painting for a time, continue to draw. Listen well to all conversations and be instructed by them and take all seriousness seriously. Never look down upon anything or anyone as not worthy of notice. In college or out of college, read. And form opinions! Read Sophocles and Euripides and Dante and Proust. Read everything that you can find about art except the reviews. Read the Bible; read Hume; read Pogo. Read all kinds of poetry and know many poets and many artists. Go to and art school, or two, or three, or take art courses at night if necessary. And paint and paint and draw and draw. Know all that you can, both curricular and noncurricular — mathematics and physics and economics, logic and particularly history. Know at least two languages besides your own, but anyway, know French. Look at pictures and more pictures. Look at every kind of visual symbol, every kind of emblem; do not spurn signboards of furniture drawings of this style of art or that style of art. Do not be afraid to like paintings honestly or to dislike them honestly, but if you do dislike them retain an open mind. Do not dismiss any school of art, not the Pre-Raphaelites nor the Hudson River School nor the German Genre painters. Talk and talk and sit at cafés, and listen to everything, to Brahms, to Brubeck, to the Italian hour on the radio. Listen to preachers in small town churches and in big city churches. Listen to politicians in New England town meetings and to rabble-rousers in Alabama. Even draw them. And remember that you are trying to learn to think what you want to think, that you are trying to co-ordinate mind and hand and eye. Go to all sorts of museums and galleries and to the studios of artists. Go to Paris and Madrid and Rome and Ravenna and Padua. Stand alone in Sainte Chapelle, in the Sistine Chapel, in the Church of the Carmine in Florence. Draw and draw and paint and learn to work in many media; try lithography and aquatint and silk-screen. Know all that you can about art, and by all means have opinions. Never be afraid to become embroiled in art of life or politics; never be afraid to learn to draw or paint better than you already do; and never be afraid to undertake any kind of art at all, however exalted or however common, but do it with distinction.

Now he had no choice but to formally add one more branch of sorcery to his list of irrational beliefs. Fortune-telling had become a science. Soon there’d be nothing but politics left to dismiss as bunkum.

Deceit and trickery didn’t sit well on his conscience. He had to do more than that. Earlier, while he’d sat on a boulder waiting for his supper, the sun slowly easing its way over the mountains, he’d engaged himself in a little lateral thinking like his literary hero Inspector Maigret.

It was a Lao-Mexican standoff. Haeng couldn't fire Siri and they both knew it.

Socialism had somehow made time more flexible. There were often situations when 1 PM and 5 PM were interchangeable.

stay quiet, little baby, Sleep well and deep, For in only a few seconds Father and Mother will return From taking care of the cows. He then

Congrats, by the way, if you’re taking a ride on that pogo stick.

正如波哥（Pogo）的不朽名言所说的：“我们遇到了敌人，这敌人就是我们自己。”我们对“特殊利益”口诛笔伐，而一旦涉及自己的“特殊利益”，我们就缄口不言了。

WATCH FOR POGO’S ABOUNDING SCHTICK In February of 1957, Rich earned his next leave to visit Gail. The news did the job of making Gail’s choice glad. She offered to meet him at the airport and watched curiously as he stepped off the plane wearing his casual blue airman suit. “Nonstop?” Gail asked. “Of course.” “How does one get off a nonstop flight, Mr. Air Force, if it doesn’t ever stop?” Rich stopped and looked Gail over. He didn’t get her joke. “You have luggage?” she asked. “Yes. One case. Over this direction.” He took her arm and led her down the corridor. “Have you ever lost your luggage?” “No. I haven’t flown commercially much.” “I hear you can sue the airlines if they lose your baggage.” “Oh?” “Yes, but there’s no guarantee that you’ll win your case.” Gail skipped in front of her boyfriend and laughed in his face. “What are you talking about, girl? I have no intention of suing the airlines.” Gail’s teasing ceased. Rich obviously had no sense of humor. At least not her kind. Sobered, she let him take the lead.

Evil, he had come to believe, was controllable as long as man had the strength of will to believe in himself.

But not one sensible argument as to why unarmed women and children and old people posed a threat to the nation.

As the comic strip character Pogo purportedly said, we have met the enemy and he is us. Our distorted, unrealistic expectations for avoiding all failures are indeed the culprit.

She introduced us to a strange pastime called jip-norring…She would carry a sort of pogo stick, dig it in the earth and then catapult herself all over the grounds. Hard to describe —it was a mixture of skipping and pole vaulting, and she insisted it got her places far sooner than other more normal modes of travel.

Remind me to never tell you about my sex life again.” “Ha!” She laughed. “Honey, it’s not a life. It was a fart in a silent room. That’s why it made a big stink. Trust me, if you had my sex life, you wouldn’t still be thinking about this guy. You’d move on to another muscular pogo stick and be done.

Art is man added to nature. ~ Francis Bacon An injury is much sooner forgotten than an insult. ~ Lord Chesterfield We has met the enemy and he is us. ~ Pogo The best revenge is living well. The goal of human existence is to break our (savage, self-centered, animal) nature. ~ Attributed to the Vilna Gaon 'dum spiro, spero' - Enquanto respiro, tenho esperança. ~ Um lema da Carolina do Sul)

For me and Suzanne, it was supposed to go like this: We'd be the maids of honor at each other's weddings. Our husbands would be really different, of course, but they'd like each other a lot anyway. We'd have babies at the same time, take family beach trips to Jamaica, remain mildly critical of each other's parenting techniques, and be favorite fun aunties to each other's kids as they grew. I'd get her kids books for their birthdays; she'd get mine pogo sticks. We'd laugh and share secrets and roll our eyes at what we perceived as the other person's ridiculous idiosyncrasies, until one day we'd realize we were two old ladies who'd been best friends forever, flummoxed suddenly by where the time had gone. That, for me, was the world as it should be.

Then we dared Pogo to cut his wrist with a knife, which he did several times.

Ms. Gleason kept us hopping on Tuesday. No, she didn't give us pogo sticks. But I learned so much that my head grew two hat sizes.

Tallest usable pogo stick