Out of the frying pan into the fire.
Quintus Septimius Tertullianus in De Carne Christi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Out Of The Frying Pan
out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
It's only two o'clock and the temperture's beginning to soar
And all around the city you see the walking wounded and the living dead
It's never been this hot and i've never been so bored
And breathing is just no fun anymore
And then i saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
I saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
You can feel the pulse of the pavement racing like a runaway horse
The subways are steaming and the skin of the street is gleaming with sweat
I've seen you sitting on the steps outside
And you were looking so restless and reckless and lost
I think it's time for you to come inside
I'll be waiting here with something that you'll never forget
I think it's time for you to come inside
I'll be waiting here with something that you'll never forget
Come on! come on!
And there'll be no turning back
You were only killing time and it'll kill you right back
Come on! come on!
It's time to burn up the fuse
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
So wander down the ancient hallway
Taking the stairs only one at a time
Follow the sound of my heartbeat now
I'm in the room at the top, you're at the end of the line
Open the door and lay down on the bed
The sun is just a ball of desire
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire!
It's only two o'clock and the tempertures beginning to soar
And all around the city you see the walking wounded and the living dead
It's never been this hot and i've never been so bored
And breathing is just no fun anymore
And then i saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
I saw you like a summer dream
And you're the answer to every prayer that i ever said
Come on! come on!
And there'll be no turning back
You were only killing time and it'll kill you right back
Come on! come on!
It's time to burn up the fuse
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
You've got nothing to do and even less to lose
So wander down the ancient hallway
Taking the stairs only one at a time
Follow the sound of my heartbeat now
I'm in the room at the top, you're at the end of the line
Open the door and lay down on the bed
The sun is just a ball of desire
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And i wanna take you out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
Out of the frying pan (and into the fire)
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire! fire! fire!
And into the fire!
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Brunt Of The Heat
A frying cake blamed a frying pan
And the frying pan, the frying cake
For the brunt of heat they bore from the stove
Like a woman and his son’s wife do.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Frying Pan!
IN the frying pan!
Frying;
Cooking with the art of love,
In style;
And like y
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
quote by Tertullian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't jump from the frying pan into the fire.
Let me leap out of the frying-pan into the fire or, out of God's blessing into the warm sun.
quote by Miguel de Cervantes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We feel free when we escape -- even if it be but from the frying pan to the fire.
quote by Eric Hoffer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We feel free when we escape - even if it be but from the frying pan to the fire.
quote by Eric Hoffer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dirty Drowning Man
I'm a dog, a dirty flying dog. I drink Campari with marinated wild hog. I've no sense, I like electric fence. I put barbed wire in my pants and do a celtic dance.
But when I can, I'm a giving man. I'll flip you out the fire and back up into the frying pan.
And if you're down looking like you're gonna drown. Of all your friends I'm the one who's most apt to stick around.
I'm a drowning man. Who will save this drowning man. Who will save this drowning man. Who will save this dirty drowning man.
You're so fine, so bright and shiney fine. And I'm so proud to say that you in fact are a friend of mine. And doubly pleased with crooked wobbly knees. I dive on in and backstroke right across these seas of cheese.
But on the times when I'm not such a giving man. Please flip me out of the fire and backup into the frying pan.
And if you're down looking like you're gonna drown. Of all your friends I'm the one who's most apt to stick around.
I'm a drowning man. Who will save this drowning man. Who will save this drowning man. Who will save this dirty drowning man.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What I Must Do
I used to plan and plot
And try to live correct
Lately I do a lot
Of things that dont make sense
Now I must do what I must
Now why do you think that a man
Jumps out of the frying pan
Into the fire when he can
Find a way not to get burned?
I must do what I must do
And I do though I know better
I must do what I must do
(even though hes gonna get it!)
Below the sky above
Beyond whats good and true
Some thing as loud as love
Calls out I cant refuse
I must do what I must do
And I do though I know better
I must do what I must do
(even though he might regret it)
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishing Song: To J.A. Froude and Tom Hughes
Oh, Mr. Froude, how wise and good,
To point us out this way to glory-
They're no great shakes, those Snowdon Lakes,
And all their pounders myth and story.
Blow Snowdon! What's Lake Gwynant to Killarney,
Or spluttering Welsh to tender blarney, blarney, blarney?
So Thomas Hughes, sir, if you choose,
I'll tell you where we think of going,
To swate and far o'er cliff and scar,
Hear horns of Elfland faintly blowing;
Blow Snowdon! There's a hundred lakes to try in,
And fresh caught salmon daily, frying, frying, frying.
Geology and botany
A hundred wonders shall diskiver,
We'll flog and troll in strid and hole,
And skim the cream of lake and river,
Blow Snowdon! give me Ireland for my pennies,
Hurrah! for salmon, grilse, and-Dennis, Dennis, Dennis!
Eversley, 1856.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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At the hunting lodge
The hunter’s.308 Musgrave hunting rifle
lies next to him in pieces
in the faint light of the hunting lodge
where he is cleaning the weapon
and in the distance a jackal
is calling at dusk,
he notices a swarm of wild doves
landing in the marula tree.
When the parts of the weapon
is joined as it belongs,
he carefully puts the weapon away
before he walks out
joining his wife at the barbeque fire
and the smell of fried lamb chops
makes his stomach growl
while he takes a pair of frying tongs from her,
turning around strings of sausages
above them the stars in the night sky
are shot-gunned into the black,
there are hyenas attracted by the smell
of the frying meat
laughing behind some trees,
somewhere he hears a kudu snorting
and the moon hangs yellow-gold above them
while he stirs the porridge
in the black three-legged pot
and his wife can swear
that a leopard with glowing eyes
is peering at them.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Dirty old fire
Fire in my hair
Fire in my eyes
Fire between my thighs
Thank you for the fire
Fire gone and burned down my house
Fire deflowered me
Fire drew me in
Fire on the television
Fire dancing in the nude
Fire the best liar of them all
Thank you Fire
poem by Lindsay Crosby
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire on Your Finger
Fire on your finger,
Fire in your eye,
Fire in your spirit,
Fire that won’t die.
Fire in the bare bones of being,
Fire to uphold what’s right,
Fire in the heart of darkness,
Fire to fuel Love’s light.
Fire to burn but not consume,
Fire to learn and not assume,
Fire to live and give living room,
Fire to love and sing her tune.
poem by Tony Jolley
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The chic’s escape
He is her pursuer against her will.
Chased by him, she stumbled on a stranger.
Sensing the stranger, she opted for her foe.
She feared the stranger more than the foe;
She feared the lover more than the stranger.
Fire to frying pan and then to scorching sand;
The foe cooled and turned a savior.,
Whose affection she couldn’t repudiate.
The chic found its way from the hungry eagle.
08.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frying Pan's Theology
Shock-headed blackfellow,
Boy (on a pony).
Snowflakes are falling
Gentle and slow,
Youngster says, "Frying Pan
What makes it snow?"
Frying Pan, confident,
Makes the reply --
"Shake 'im big flour bag
Up in the sky!"
"What! when there's miles of it?
Surely that's brag.
Who is there strong enough
Shake such a bag?"
"What parson tellin' you,
Ole Mister Dodd,
Tell you in Sunday-School?
Big pfeller God!
"Him drive 'im bullock dray,
Then thunder go;
Him shake 'im flour bag --
Tumble down snow!"
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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