Quotes About Ravens

Among the young ravens driven to roost awhile on Graydon's ark was James Andrew Manallace - a darkish, slow northerner of a type that does not ignite, but must be detonated. (Dayspring Mishandled)

And the ravens brought him bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening; and he drank of the brook.

There were three ravens sat on a tree,They were as black as they might be.The one of them said to his mate,"Where shall we our breakfast take?"

I love the way ravens fly; they are the most acrobatic and daring birds.

Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.

to this day, there are ravens at the Tower of London. They're fed by the Ravenmaster of the Yeoman Warders.

ABOVE PASTOR'S BAY SIX ravens flew low, barely rising over the skeletal trees. High in the clear blue sky the last geese were heading south, but the ravens moved north toward forests and mountains, toward ice and snow. They flew fast and sure into the coming dark, that they might tell the waiting wolf of all they had seen.

Where there's a doctor it's always a bad sign. Even when they are not doing the killing themselves it means a death is close, and in that way they are like ravens or crows.

Where there are wars, there will be crows, the carrion-fanciers. And ravens too, the warbirds, the eyeball gourmands. And vultures, the holy birds of yore, old connoisseurs of rot.

I shall reclaim the bird sooner or later, sweet William." "Aye," Will said. "But not until ravens flocks these grounds again. Do we have an agreement, my lady?" She bit her lip, ignoring the Mebd's arch amusement. "He's hidden from me for a thousand years," Morgan le Fey said at last, acquiesing. Her hand slid gracefully down to rest on her thigh, cupped inward, palm open. "A few days mean nothing.

Overhead were ravens and lake gulls, all around were low hills made of the oldest rock in the world bathed by the most beautiful light on earth, and lovely miniature birches, and small flowers clinging and spreading.

Oh my word, three huge ravens just flew gracefully over my head. Beautiful.

They were nothing but ravens—I knew that—what they thought of me could be a matter of no consequence—and yet when even a raven shouts after you, What a hat! Oh, pull down your vest! and that sort of thing, it hurts you and humiliates you, and there is no getting around it with fine reasoning and pretty arguments. Animals

The high desert landscape of New Mexico is a sparse terrain, bearing the trace of stories long forgotten. It's a good place to study the parlance of wind and flowing water, to ponder ravens on the wing and the play of shadows among the rocks. The land here cuts through you like a knife, enticing you to relinquish one trusted language for another- or for none at all.

there are no crows in the desert. What appear to be crows are ravens. You must examine the crow, however, before you can understand the raven. To forget the crow completely, as some have tried to do, would be like trying to understand the one who stayed without talking to the one who left. It is important to make note of who has left the desert.

God's providence is never characterized in broad generalities or pious abstractions but always in the particular, in the personal, in the recognition of grace in an unlikely time, at an unlikely place. Who could have anticipated ravens?

Ravens aren't usually nocturnal, but hunger can be.

Homais, as was due to his principles, compared priests to ravens attracted by the odour of death. The sight of an ecclesiastic was personally disagreeable to him, for the cassock made him think of the shroud, and he detested the one from some fear of the other.

Love can be angry... with a kind of anger in which there is no gall, like the dove's and not the ravens.

As the plow breaks the earth shall he break the lives of men, and all that was shall be consumed in the fire of his eyes,' " Egwene said. " 'The trumpets of war shall sound at his footsteps, the ravens feed at his voice, and he shall wear a crown of swords.

I am Crone, eldest of the Moon's Great Ravens, whose eyes have looked upon a hundred thousand years of human folly. Hence my tattered coat and broken beak as evidence of your indiscriminate destruction. I am but a winged witness of your eternal madness.

In Yellowstone, where ravens have dotted their black exclamation points onto the white pages of the snows of many thousands of winters

According to the history books, the decisive battle that ended the Ankh-Morpork Civil War was fought between two handfuls of bone-weary men in a swamp early one misty morning and, although one side claimed victory, ended with a practical score of Humans 0, ravens 1,000, which is the case with most battles.

It is winter. Ravens are standing on a pile of bones -- black typeface on white paper picking an idea clean. It's what I do each time I sit down to write. What else are we to do with our obsessions? Do they feed us? Or are we simply scavenging our memories for one gleaming image to tell the truth of what is hunting us? 'To write,' Marguerite Duras remarked, 'is also not to speak. It is to keep silent. It is to howl noiselessly.