Quotes About Flocks

It was soldier's went marching over the rocks, and still they came in watery flocks, because it was spring and the birds had to come, No doubt that soldier's had to be marching, and that the drums had to be rolling, rolling, rolling

Troubles are exceedingly gregarious in their nature, and flying in flocks are apt to perch capriciously.

At evening casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink Downward to darkness, on extended wings.

Then Jacob took fresh rods of poplar and almond and plane trees, and peeled white stripes in them, exposing the white which was in the rods. He set the rods which he had peeled in front of the flocks in the gutters, even in the watering troughs, where the flocks came to drink; and they mated when they came to drink. So the flocks mated by the rods, and the flocks brought forth striped, speckled, and spotted. Jacob separated the lambs, and made the

Nothing shocks me more in the men of religion and their flocks than their pretensions to be the only religious people.

Religions have depended on the relative isolation and ignorance of their flocks, forever and this is all breaking down.

If anything belongs in the Shepherd of the Night's flocks, lad, it's Trollocs.

The professors' conceit was to think that models could forecast the limits of behavior. In fact, the models could tell them what was reasonable or what was predictable based on the past. The professors overlooked the fact that people, traders included, are not always reasonable. This is the true lesson of Long-Term's demise. No matter what the models say, traders are not machines guided by silicon chips; they are impressionable and imitative; they run in flocks and retreat in hordes.

This is the true lesson of Long-Term's demise. No matter what the models say, traders are not machines guided by silicon chips; they are impressionable and imitative; they run in flocks and retreat in hordes.

In twenty-four years of proofreading, flocks of words flew into my head through the windows of my soul. Some of them stayed on and built nests in there. Why should I not speak like a poet, with a commonwealth of language at my disposal, constantly invigorated by new arrivals?

The god of woods and flocks, Faunus deifies the forces of nature which the peasant both fears and entreats. So in this instance he was propitiated on the fringes of the city and civilised life

And is it so hard to believe that souls might also travel those paths? That her father and Etienne and Madame Manec and the German boy named Werner Pfennig might harry the sky in flocks, like egrets, like terns, like starlings? That great shuttles of souls might fly about, faded but audible if you listen closely enough?

Like flocks of small dark birds, hidden parts of the self weep

Though I had read the story many times before, I never realized until that moment that shepherds carefully keep track of their flocks by constantly counting, continually checking.

I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!

Under the opening eyelids of the morn,We drove afield; and both together heardWhat time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night.

four buyers rushed out in search of flocks.

I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!

Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.

But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat, The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat, To closer shades the panting flocks remove; Ye gods! And is there no relief for love?

It was the time of year when migrating crows wheeled across the sky, thunderous flocks that moved like a single veil, and I heard them, out there in the wild chirruping air. Turing to the window, I watched the birds fill the sky before disappearing, and when the air was still again, I watched the empty place where they had been.

Every pasture needs three things," the woman said, voice changing, as if she were quoting from memory. "Flocks to grow, herdsmen to tend, and watchers at the rim.

There was a shepherd that did live, And held his thoughts as high As were the mounts whereon his flocks Did hourly feed him by.

What should we think of the shepherd's life if his flocks always wandered to higher pastures than his thoughts?