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The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
--
"Out, Out —"

 

Robert Frost

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We throw sticks at dogs, that's the level we have dogs at. You'd never dream of throwing one for a cat. We throw sticks for dogs, and dogs go, "Oh, he's dropped his stick! I better go and get that. [mimes chasing after the stick] Saw you dropped your stick there, thought I'd bring it back. And you – hang on! [mimes giving the stick back and follows it with eyes as it's thrown again] Did you see me just bring that back? And then you … you dropped it again? This is very weird. I don't know what's going on here. [mimes bringing the stick back again] Now, hang on to it this time, I don't want to piss about all the time. You think I enjoy this? There you … don't f**king throw it!" That's why the third time, when they come back, they won't give it to you. They go, [through clenched teeth] "No … I won't let you take it!"

 

Eddie Izzard

 

Isn't it funny
How a bear likes honey?
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
I wonder why he does?

 

A. A. Milne

 

As an artist in prose he is one of the most miraculous products of the extremely poetical genius of England. The length of a Ruskin sentence is like that length in the long arrow that was boasted of by the drawers of the bow. He draws, not a cloth-yard shaft but a long lance to his ear: he shoots a spear. But the whole goes light as a bird and straight as a bullet.

 

John Ruskin

 

But just as the world grew right again,
We heard a wanderer out on the plain
Singing what none of us understood;
Yet we thought that the world grew thrice more sweet
And the meadows were blossoming under his feet.
And we felt a grand and beautiful fear,
For we knew that a marvellous thought drew near;
So we kept the glass for a little while:
And the skies grew deeper and twice as bright,
And the seas grew soft as a flower of light,
And the meadows rippled from stile to stile;
And memories danced in a musical throng
Thro' the blossom that scented the wonderful song.

 

Alfred Noyes

 

All the time, I'm afraid the thing that happened that made it all right for my mother to kill my sister could happen again. I don't know what it is, I don't know who it is, but maybe there is something else terrible enough to make her do it again. I need to know what that thing might be, but I don't want to. Whatever it is, it comes from outside this house, outside the yard, and it can come right on in the yard if it wants to. So I never leave this house and I watch over the yard, so it can't happen again and my mother won't have to kill me too.

 

Toni Morrison