Quotes About Birds

I think people who don't believe in God are crazy. How can you say there is no God when you hear the birds singing these beautiful songs you didn't make?

If you rely on God as He ought to be relied upon, He will provide you as He provides the birds; they go out empty and hungry in the morning and come back big bellied at eventide.

The birds, the poets of the animal creation - what though they never get beyond the lyrical! - awoke to utter their own joy, and awake like joy in others of God's children.

Justice and mercy/ Are human dreams, they do not concern the birds nor the fish nor eternal God.

And his good wife will tear her cheeks in grief, his sons are orphans and he, soaking the soil red with his own blood, he rots away himself-more birds than women flocking round his body!

I think my great book is Born to Sing: An Interpretation and World Survey of Bird Song.

In a beautiful morning, walking barefoot to the work through the green fields with the company of the singing birds... and there you shall meet the real happiness!

I don't know about birds nor do I know the history of fire. But I believe that my solitude should have wings

People don't alter history any more than birds alter the sky, they just make brief patterns in it.

We returned home, after these experiments, with the conviction that sailing flight was not the exclusive prerogative of birds.

When Emily Dickinson writes, "Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul," she reminds us, as the birds do, of the liberation and pragmatism of belief.

All he could do was wait like this, patiently, until it grew light out and the birds awoke and began their day. All he could do was trust in the birds, in all the birds, with their wings and beaks.

Turkeys are peacocks that have really let themselves go.

Last time you bring me pie, I cut into it, with my tiny pie cutter, and millions of birds flew out hitting me in the eyes and the temples... it was a trick pie!

We've got stained glass windows in our house; it's those damned pigeons.

What do little birdies see when they get knocked unconscious?

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.

She is kind and very beautiful. But she can be so cruel and it comes so suddenly and such birds that fly, dipping and hunting, with their small sad voices are made too delicately for the sea.

As birds' wings beat the solid air without which none could fly so words freed by the imagination affirm reality by their flight.

As I watch, the sky fills with clouds of snow feathers from every kind of bird there ever was and even some that only exist in the imagination, like the bluebirds that fly over the rainbow.

The birds and I share a natural history. It is a matter of rootedness, of living inside a place for so long that the mind and imagination fuse.

In the under-wood and the over-wood there is murmur and trill this day, For every bird is in lyric mood, And the wind will have its way.

I'm terrified of heights, but I think there's something really beautiful about birds and soaring, having a bird's-eye view of the world.

Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.