Quotes About Birds

be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can.

Proud Songsters The thrushes sing as the sun is going, And the finches whistle in ones and pairs, And as it gets dark loud nightingales In bushes Pipe, as they can when April wears, As if all Time were theirs. These are brand-new birds of twelve-months' growing, Which a year ago, or less than twain, No finches were, nor nightingales, Nor thrushes, But only particles of grain, And earth, and air, and rain.

For the birds there is not a time that they tell, but the point vierge between darkness and light, between being and nonbeing. You can tell yourself the time by their waking, if you are experienced. But that is your folly, not theirs.

It is God's love that speaks to me in the birds and streams; but also behind the clamor of the city God speaks to me in His judgments, and all these things are seeds sent to me from His will. If

The breeze of morning lifted in the bush and the smell of leaves and wet black earth mingled with the sharp smell of the sea. Myriads of birds were singing. A goldfinch flew over the shepherd's head and, perching on the tiptop of a spray, it turned to the sun, ruffling its small breast feathers. And now they had passed the fisherman's hut, passed the charred-looking lit

In September countless sand and house-martins jazz above the river, taking insects from the surface, from the air, thousands of birds kissing the river farewell. They creak, a sound like the air rubbing against itself. Summer is everything they know; they're preparing themselves, sensing in the shortening days a door they must dash through before it shuts.

No Orkney weather lasts long, and you can see new weather coming a long way off. There are frequent scraps of rainbow. And birds. At any point you can stop walking, or pull over and lower the car window and hear the cries of peewits and tremulous curlews.

In Genesis 1, some have attempted to make a distinction between the expanse in which the birds fly (Genesis 1:2018) and the expanse in which the sun, moon, and stars were placed (Genesis 1:719); this was in an effort to have the sun, moon, and stars made in the second expanse. This is not a distinction that is necessary from the text, and is only necessary if a canopy is assumed.

Jesus illustrated the principle of wu-wei beautifully in his Nature Sermon. The wild birds neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet they are fed; the lilies of the field neither toil nor spin, yet they are clothed. Wu-wei is not about being lazy and doing nothing. Rather, it is about following the way of nature and not wasting energy. It is about the beauty of "letting it be"!

What makes the birds so happy when I'm sad? The irritating creatures!

For their size, crows are among the brainiest organisms on Earth, outclassing not only other birds (with the possible exception of parrots), but also most mammals.

The girl dreams she is dangerously ill. Suddenly birds come out of her skin and cover her completely ... Swarms of gnats obscure the sun, the moon, and all the stars except one. That one start falls upon the dreamer.

And smale foweles maken melodye,That slepen al the nyght with open yë,(So priketh hem nature in hit corages);Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.

The most brightly colored birds sing the worst; the same goes for people.

At the Moor Wanderer in the black wind; quietly the dry reeds whisper In the stillness of the moor. In the gray sky A flock of wild birds follows; Slanting over gloomy waters. Turmoil. In decayed hut The spirit of putrescence flutters with black wings. Crippled birches in the autumn wind. Evening in deserted tavern. The way home is scented all around By the soft gloom of grazing herds; Apparition of the night; toads plunge from brown waters.

Not your dark poisons again, White sleep! This fantastically strange garden Of trees in deepening twilight Fills up with serpents, nightmoths, Spiders, bats. Approaching stranger! Your abandoned shadow In the red of evening Is a dark pirate ship Of the salty oceans of confusion. White birds from the outskirts of the night Flutter out over the shuddering cities Of steel.

And you brought the ski mask?" "Yes. It's not cold, though, even up above." "It's not for the cold. The pegasi like to chase birds. Birds don't like to be chased." "Okay." Whatever that meant. Chapter 10 BIRDS WERE ASSHOLES.

Roman waved his arm and a murder of crows shot out of the forest, flew above our heads and up into the sky. "I don't do doves," Roman said.

The birds tried a direct assault just after dark. I let that idiot and your werewolf have them. I think Sean might be disturbed. He cut off their heads and put them on sticks in the back yard.

How irrevocably spoilt, down to its minutest detail, his world was now. Even the countryside was spoilt, the animals, the birds, the flowers. There was nowhere to run to.

The day seemed oddly normal. The sun peacefully sailed through the white clouds, birds sang from treetops, the trees danced to the quiet wind.

If ever there was an aviary overstocked with jays it is that Yaptown-on-the-Hudson called New York.

The goose gabbles amid the melodious swans.

There are joys which long to be ours. God sends ten thousands truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile upon the roof, and then fly away.