Quotes About Birds

Things! Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing—the reason they can fly.

More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing—the reason they can fly.

For the birds who own nothing—the reason they can fly.

This morning two mockingbirds in the green field were spinning and tossing the white ribbons of their songs into the air. I had nothing better to do than listen. I mean this seriously.

Things! Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing—the reason they can fly. FOR TOM SHAW S.S.J.E.

About the River Clarion Along its shores were, may I say, very intense cardinal flowers. And trees, and birds that have wings to uphold them, for heaven's sakes– the lucky ones: they have such deep natures, they are so happily obedient. While I sit here in a house filled with books, ideas, doubts, hesitations.

Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing—the reason they can fly.

For hours I wandered over the fields and the only thing that kept me company was a song, it glided along with my delicious dark happiness, my heavy, bristling and aching delight at the world which has been like this forever and forever— the leaves, the birds, the ponds, the loneliness

Turtles' shells are bony plates covered with scales called scutes. The ancient relatives of birds also had scales.

A good house, deep in the woods, with a garden all around it and a river flowing past it. Fruit trees, and flowers planted for the bees. A place to grow my herbs. Silence in winter, and in summer nothing but the birds. Lonely as the grave, and every bit as restful.

Thanks for this day, for all birds safe in their nests, for whatever this is, for life.

I'd forgotten how trees full of bird sounds made you sense the world differently: that life didn't just stop at eye level.

There must be transients in the bird world too, rumple-feathered outcasts that naturally seek out each other's company in inferior and dying trees.

Today at the Melchor market, a fantastical sight. A servant girl with a birdcage on her back, full of birds. She wore her blue shawl wrapped around the cage and tied in front to hold it. The willow cage must have been very light because she was not bent over, yet it towered over her head, with turrets like a Japanese pagoda. And full of birds: green and yellow, flapping about like dreams trying to escape from a skull.

I was struck with how full a silence could be: a Carolina wren sang from the eave of the shed; cedar waxwings carried on whispery bickerings up in the cherry; a mockingbird did an odd jerky dance, as if seized by the bird spirit, out on the driveway. The pea bowl rang like an insistent bell as we tossed in our peas.

She told him television was a bad influence. Probably she was right. Like those white birds he's been seeing outside the window, it flashes its wings and promises whatever you want, even before you knew you wanted it.

Their tail feathers ticked like weeds and one of them crowed nonstop, as if impatient. But impatience implies consciousness of time and a chicken is existential. I know that much about birds.

I felt a calmness birds can bring to people; and, quieted, I sensed here the outlines of the oldest mysteries: the nature and extent of space, the fall of light from the heavens, the pooling of time in the present, as if it were water.

This autumn- why am I growing old? bird disappearing among clouds.

Algunos pájaros no están destinados a que los enjaulen, eso es todo. Tienen las plumas demasiado brillantes, su canto es demasiado dulce y libre. Así que, o les dejas irse, o, cuando abres la jaula para darles de comer, se las arreglan para escapar volando. Y la parte de ti que en el fondo creía que era un error tenerlos cautivos se alboroza, pese al hecho de que el lugar en que vives sea mucho más lóbrego y triste tras su partida.

Still, I did a double take when I saw the following headline in the Provincetown Banner: PLOVERS CLOSE PARKING LOT. An image flashed through my mind of little birds dragging a chain across the entrance and waving away traffic. I thought it was the silliest thing I had ever seen until I turned the page and read DOG FECES CLOSES BEACHES.

I love all animals. I have a fascination with fish, birds, whales - sentient life - insects, reptiles.

It was a meditation on life, love, old age, death: ideas that had often fluttered around her head like nocturnal birds but dissolved into a trickle of feathers when she tried to catch hold of them.

Necessity knows no magic formulae-they are all left to chance. If a love is to be unforgettable, fortuities must immediately start fluttering down to it like birds to Francis of Assisi's shoulders.