Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle! I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! ~ Robert Burns - To A Mouse
Heaven help us, mom. Blood, mom. Fake your death, mom. The jetset life is gonna kill you, mom. Vampires will never hurt you, mom. Hang em high, mom. I don't love you, mom. Dead(!), mom. The end, mom. Famous last words, mom.