Quotes About Parrot

Who asked you to the funeral anyway? Were you acquainted with the late parrot?

Teach a parrot the terms 'supply and demand' and you've got an economist.

This parrot is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies. It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot.

I operate under the theory that all publicity is good publicity, and then, if that theory doesn't work, you just say that any newspaper article ends up on the bottom of the parrot cage. But, of course, you can't line a parrot cage with Internet bloggers, can you?

People that want to talk can talk. Even a parrot talks. People are always going to have their thoughts on what they're going to say.

Ones ears are weary of the voice of the art teacher who sits like the parrot on his perch, learning the jargon of the studios, making but poor copy and calling it criticism. We have had enough of their omniscience, their parade of technical knowledge, and their predilection for the wrong end of the stick.

hollín. El museo era sólo el sobreviviente pabellón donde se podía ver un loro disecado que le sirvió de modelo para Un Coeur simple y una de las piedras labradas que trajo de Túnez cuando escribía Salammbô. Había también unas pocas fotos amarillentas y

I wish that, like you, I could have spent my life transported aloft, as it were, every day, in music. Instead, I've lived like a caffeinated parrot.

You got used to a bit of peace and you got used to a bit of extra pretty polly.

Much talking is the cause of danger. Silence is the means of avoiding misfortune. The talkative parrot is shut up in a cage. Other birds, without speech, fly freely about.

I do not object to the phenomena, but I do object to the parrot.

Your blouse is whitening on the chair and your parrot Flaubert weeps in French: she left him, and he is sorry.

Merde, alors,' said the parrot, muffled.

A real Christian is a person who can give his pet parrot to the town gossip.

Penelope (the parrot) squawked, 'I'll do it because I want to but not because you tell me to!' Mary was certainly surprised at that because she thought that she had made up that brilliant remark. She didn't dare to look at her mother….

He was trying to conjure up a succubus. It should be impossible to leer when all you've got is a beak, but the parrot managed it. That's a female demon what comes in the night and makes mad passionate wossn- I've heard of them, said Rincewind. Bloody dangerous things. The parrot put its head on one side. It never worked. All he ever got was a neuralger. What's that? It's a demon that comes and has a headache at you.

A woman. She liked this band called The Cure, and she thought it would be cool if she pierced my ear." Maya thinks about this. "Did you have a parrot?" "I didn't. I had a girlfriend." "Could the parrot talk?" "No, because there wasn't a parrot." She tries to trick him. "What was the parrot's name?" "There wasn't a parrot." "But if there was one, what would his name have been?

remembered summer light, and the luminous inverted ghost of a boy with a parrot on his shoulder.

Stop lusting after my brother, wife." Elliott said without looking up from where a laptop sat on a large desk. "Else I'll have to get the parrot out.

The conscious mind allows itself to be trained like a parrot, but the unconscious does not—which is why St. Augustine thanked God for not making him responsible for his dreams.

Exactly. That's why it's so rare." The parrot arrives, flapping up from far below, and sits on the cash register. Seeing the register reminds me that I can't pay, and I tell the bartender so. "Not a problem," the bartender says. "We'll bill your insurance.

The parrot sat on the back of a chair across from me. Suddenly he climbed down and walked across the table between the ashtrays and empty bottles and climbed up on my shoulder. "Don't say that thing," I told him, "it's very irritating to me when you say that thing." "Fuckin' whore," said the parrot.

All she saw, down in the cellar well beneath the stoop, was a light yellow feather with a tip of green. And she had never named him. Had called him my parrot all these years. My parrot. Love you. Love you. Did the dogs get him? Or did he get the message - that she said, My parrot and he said, Love you, and she had never said it back or even taken the trouble to name him - and manage somehow to fly away on wings that had not soared for six years.

Walking out of the store with my parrot & sushi, I feel hideous, like everything I've done must be written on my skin. I walk through the streets of Tokyo with my cameraman behind me, knowing that anyone who looks at me will be able to see myshame, my sorrow, my regrets as ugly as scars. -Cassie