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# Weekend Words: Egg
- URL: https://hyperallergic.com/weekend-words-egg/
- Published: 2015-04-05T14:00:18.000Z
- Updated: 2025-11-24T16:31:39.000Z
- Description: It's Easter, have an egg.
- Author: Weekend Editors
- Tags: Opinion, Weekend, Weekend Words, #wp, #wp-post, #image-position-hidden, #Import 2025-11-24 07:08 (2014, 2015, part 2)

![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/51/f8/51f871d8-b6be-4a73-b958-0ca4fff0110a/content/images/hyperallergic-newspack-s3-amazonaws-com/uploads/2015/04/egg.jpg)

Diego Rodriguez de Silva y Velázquez, “Old Woman Frying Eggs” (1618), oil on canvas, 101 x 120 cm. National Gallery of Scotland, Edinburgh (Image via Web Gallery of Art)

It’s Easter, have an egg.

> The Ostrich roams the great Sahara.  
> Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra.  
> It has such long and lofty legs,  
> I’m glad it sits to lay its eggs.  
>  
> **—Ogden Nash, “The Ostrich”**

> Boredom is the dream bird that hatches the egg of experience. A rustling in the leaves drives him away.  
>  
> **—Walter Benjamin**

> Speech is often barren; but silence also does not necessarily brood over a full nest. Your still fowl, blinking at you without remark, may all the while be sitting on one addled egg; and when it takes to cackling will have nothing to announce but that addled delusion.  
>  
> **—George Eliot, *Felix Holt, the Radical***

> I go on working for the same reason that a hen goes on laying eggs.  
>  
> **—H. L. Mencken**

> A hen is only a egg’s way of making another egg.  
>  
> **—Samuel Butler, *Life and Habit***

> There was an old man of Thermopylae,  
> Who never did anything properly;  
> But they said, “If you choose  
> To boil eggs in your shoes  
> You shall never remain in Thermopylae.”  
>  
> **—Edward Lear, *More Nonsense***

> Making capitalism out of socialism is like making eggs out of an omelet.  
>  
> **—Vadim Bakatin**

> To venerate the simple days  
> Which lead the seasons by,  
> Needs but to remember  
> That from you or me  
> They may take the trifle  
> Termed mortality!  
> To invest existence with a stately air,  
> Needs but to remember  
> That the acorn there  
> Is the egg of forests  
> For the upper air!  
>  
> **—Emily Dickinson, 90**

> Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.  
>  
> **—William Cowper**