Quotes About Birds

He was already tired of the rain. He never took long to grow weary of it in winter, though he liked it in the summertime when it fell hard, silver and green, and afterward steamed from the backs of horses, steamed up from the railroad ties and lay in a mist along Town Creek. In summer, the birds sang after a rain, but no such music rose from the cold drizzle of the dead time. Only silence, and only the dark.

I was convinced that birds were kinds of souls. Not the souls of people but of previous birds whose mystery and beauty were so necessary on earth that God would not allow them to be anything in their second life but birds again.

Atkins knows two kinds of birds: seagulls and the ones that aren't seagulls.

What divine law is it, Luis Quinn wondered, that where the birds are fantastical in color and plumage their song offends the ear, yet at home the dowdy blackbird could wring the heart?

In this dream she dreamed the sixteen-o'clock dream once more, but in this heightened state of awareness all those images and symbols that had so far evaded her now came flocking to her fingers like singing birds, and they lifted her, by her fingertips, and she flew with them.

My brother was kidnapped by birds. My friend was captured by coyotes. And I nearly forgot: My bike is broken. Sounds like a country song. If country songs were really, really weird.

out of the nest. He estimated the clutch had been around fifty eggs

I don't know if this classifies as a video game, but I have a terrible obsession with Angry Birds.

He imagines Owens' body dotted with saltwater reservoirs just below the skin. An entire wetland, populated with tiny fish and birds, thriving in his agitation. A species of dwarf crocodile lazing beside an artery.

In every message she spoke of birds, of flight, of the world away. Even back then, she flew against what was presented to her. I wanted to cling to her wings and soar, no matter how intimidated I was.

was being attacked by a flock of harpies that made the playground scene in The Birds look like a Disney movie.

In the words of Roger Tory Peterson, "The truth of the matter is, the birds could very well live without us, but many—perhaps all—of us would find life incomplete, indeed almost intolerable without the birds.

One Heart" Look at the birds. Even flying is born out of nothing. The first sky is inside you, Friend, open at either end of day. The work of wings was always freedom, fastening one heart to every falling thing.

The first wild birds of the morning Are breaking out of the trees. And now the night is dying On the sharp edge of the stone. Let's find a corner of darkness Where I will love you always, And I won't care about people Or the poison that they spread.

from: Age Sixty-nine) Often, lately, the night is a cold maw and stars the scattered white teeth of the gods, which spare none of us. At dawn I have birds, clearly divine messengers that I don't understand yet day by day feel the grace of their intentions.

from: Age Sixty-nine) There is this circle I walk that I have learned to love. I hope one day to be a spiral but to the birds I'm a circle.

Perhaps when we die our names are taken from us by a divine magnet and are free to flutter here and there within the bodies of birds. I'll be a simple crow who can reach the top of Antelope Butte. (From: Hard Times)

My case rests on the rights of desire,' he says. 'On the god who makes even the small birds quiver.

My case rests on the rights of desire,' he says. 'On the god who makes even the small birds quiver.' (11)

The smaller, delicate Blue-headed Parrots were Tiko's stature; indeed they are closely related to him. Instead of Tiko's red, their foreheads were a delicate deep blue, but otherwise they were a rich and varied green—the basic parrot palette.

There she goes. How strange she is: my winter child; my changeling. Wild as an armful of birds, she flies everywhere in an instant. There is no keeping her inside, no making her sit quietly. She has never been like other girls, never like other children. Rosette is a force of nature, like the jackdaws that sit on the steeple and laugh, like a fall of unseasonal snow, like the blossom on the wind.

There's a problem with wounded birds, Cassie, Connor said. Either they fly away from you one day, or else they never get better. They stay hurt no matter what you do.

You have to understand – there is a romance to Africa. You can see a sunset and believe you have witnessed the hand of God. You watch the slow lope of a lioness and forget to breathe. You marvel at the tripod of a giraffe bent to water. In Africa, there are iridescent blues on the wings of birds that you do not see anywhere else in nature. In Africa, in the midday heat, you can see blisters in the atmosphere. When you are in Africa, you feel primordial, rocked in the cradle of the world.

A tree that allows birds to nest in it should never complain about its shred leaves.