Quotes About Ducks

I've got ten thousand ducks quacking and waddling, with one deluded chicken that thinks it's a duck in the middle. I think it's a flock of ducks; Cam thinks it's a malign conspiracy of chickens.

I grew up in the English countryside, raising ducks and chickens.

I say a stream leading into a pond, where we can have swans and ducks and absolutely no geese, and we'll live very happily, two old-maid sisters. I do think we should have cats, a great many of them. They won't go after the ducks, will they?" "We'll have cats that are afraid of ducks

The first rule of snooping is to come at it sideways--when you began writing me dizzy letters about Alexander, I didn't ask if you were in love with him, I asked what his favorite animal was. And your answer told me everything I needed to know about him--how many men would admit that they loved ducks?

He's out there waiting for us. We his the street, and we're ducks in a barrel. (Steele) Isn't that fish in a barrel? (Syd) Don't fuck with my metaphors right now, Syd. Can't you see that I'm under stress? (Steele)

It seemed very remarkable that you could travel halfway around the world and still end up looking at some ducks.

For geese aren't ducks and chickens, you know. Ducks are scared of the pox. Chickens of polecats. But geese just glut. When it comes to eating, anything goes. Oats, millet, groats, and, begging your pardon, they peck at worse things, too.

I've always looked upon the Ducks as caricature human beings. Perhaps I've been years writing in that middle world that J.R.R. Tolkien describes, and never knew it.

We only call at ducks when their rear ends are towards us. If I'm looking at you and you call my name, then I know where the sound came from. But if you had your back to me and I holler and you turn around, you would assume somebody hollered. You want your decoys to represent the sound that you're making.

I might do my own independent film, that my husband wrote for me, if all the ducks are in a row.

Space is an arena where the rowdy particles that are the building blocks of life perform their antics. All spring, things fall; the general law of increasing disorder is on the rise. What is it to be a cause without an effect, an effect without a cause, to abandon time-bound thinking, the use of tenses, the temporally related emotions of impatience, expectation, hope, and fear? But I can't. At the edge of the lake I watch ducks. Like them, my thinking rises and falls on the same water.

Some people, when they have a holiday, just want to go to salt coats, twenty-five miles along the coast from Glasgow. Some people don't even want to that. They are happy to stay at home or watch the birds and the ducks float by in the park. And some want to go to the moon. It's all about people's AMBITIONS.

The memories of long love gather like drifting snow, poignant as the mandarin ducks who float side by side in sleep.

Backyard ducks that supposedly "take care of themselves" require more maintenance than the space shuttle.

At least our ducks and geese live in backyard pens, though trudging outside to fill their plastic swimming pools involves a trip through the basement, where two convalescing turkeys yip pathetically if I don't coo and hand-feed them grain.

Nearly every aspect of life was subject to some measure of legal restraint. At a local level, you could be fined for letting your ducks wander in the road, for misappropriating town gravel, for having a guest in your house without a permit from the local bailiff.

I want to fill it with color and ducks, The zoo of the new

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.

I lived with them in my studio in New York. And of course if I were doing that book today or even ten years, fifteen years later, I would have gone to where the wild ducks were and where I could study them - I would have gone to the country somewhere.

Got to be worth a try, I suppose, said Crowley. It's not as if I haven't got lots of other work to do, God knows. His forehead creased for a moment, and then he slapped the steering wheel triumphantly. Ducks! he shouted. What? That's what water slides off! Aziraphale took a deep breath. Just drive the car, please, he said wearily.

It's all very well to run around saying regulation is bad, get the government off our backs, etc. Of course our lives are regulated. When you come to a stop sign, you stop; if you want to go fishing, you get a license; if you want to shoot ducks, you can shoot only three ducks. The alternative is dead bodies at the intersection, no fish, and no ducks. OK? ( Getting Control of the Frontier , Gainsville Sun, March 22, 1995)

Our main deal is pastured livestock. So we have beef cattle, pigs, turkeys, laying chickens, meat chickens, rabbit, lamb and ducks - egg-layer ducks.

I spent a lot of time on farms when I was growing up, and I've been obsessed with the practical logic of farmyards - the turning radius of tractors, where the chickens and ducks might go. It's not a place where stand-alone aesthetic decisions make a lot of sense.

If you know anything about ducks, you know a baby duck will imprint itself on you. It misses its mother.