Quotes About Loon

I'm proper schizophrenic - really, really, really shy, but also a bit of a loon.

I remember going out alone in a canoe. Somebody told me to lie in the bottom of the canoe and just drift. It was a small lake and I was perfectly safe. So I did that, and I drifted. It was quiet and peaceful. Suddenly, I heard a loon cry the first time I ever heard that marvelous sound.

The loon placed both palms down on the concrete in front of her and—CRACK!—smacked her forehead hard on the ground.

The spruce and cedar on its shores, hung with gray lichens, looked at a distance like the ghosts of trees. Ducks were sailing here and there on its surface, and a solitary loon, like a more living wave, — a vital spot on the lake's surface, — laughed and frolicked, and showed its straight leg, for our amusement.

Fear was keeping this loon going, as he was scrambling under the tables in this packed club, it was as if he was in a Carry On film and trying to hide from me. As the bouncers arrived, I was putting the boot in to the plonker without much success. He was like a bumblebee on speed!

It was laughter that might have been squeezed from the tubes of his own darkest heart, then amplified fifty times through the bellows of a loon's ass.