Quotes About Hawk

you think so logically...like a hawk soaring - I feel so chaotically...like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth...

The heart doesn't know it's expanding with compassion anymore than a hawk spreading its swings knows it's being a hawk. Nor does someone acting out of love often realize they are being kind.

I'm not a humming-bird. I'm a hawk; a tiny leashed hawk, pecked to death by these large, white, flabby, wormy hens.

Look, there's Billy Casper there wi' his pet hawk. I could shout at 'em; it's not a pet, Sir, hawks are not pets. Or when folks stop me and say, "Is it tame?" Is it heck tame, it's trained that's all. It's fierce, and it's wild, an' it's not bothered about anybody, not even about me right. And that's why it's great.

People would say I really loved Buck Rogers until the Hawk guy came on.

I'm an Englishman who did a film on Mogadishu, 'Black Hawk Down.'

Being on the Intelligence Committee made me more of a hawk.

'T@gged' is really, really dope. I'm really proud of it, and I really love the role of Hawk. It's arguably one of my favorite roles I've played.

Every Democrat on Capitol Hill professes to be a fiscal hawk.

I had strange dreams," he said. "Perhaps it was the storm. But I dreamed that a cup of water turned into a hawk and flew off to a land of snowcapped mountains, and then the mountains burst into flame.

Said the reeve to the maid who was fresh to the farm 'Let me show you the beasts of the yard!' Here's a cow that gives milk, and a pig that's for ham Here's a cur and a goat and a lamb; Here's a horse tall and proud, and a well-trained old hawk, But the thing you should see is this excellent cock!

You cannot friend a hawk, they said, unless you are a hawk yourself, alone and only a sojourner in the land, without friends or the need of them.

The cats at the edge of the clearing were staring up at the sky, their eyes huge with fear. As he looked upward, Fireheart heard the beating of wings and saw a hawk circling above the trees, its harsh cry drifting on the air. At the same time he realized that one cat had not taken shelter; Snowkit was tumbling and playing in the middle of the open space. "Snowkit!" Speckletail yowled desperately.

Although FOMC members, hawks and doves alike, agreed it was time to wind down our emergency lending programs, they differed on when to begin rolling back our accommodative monetary policy.

It was a song of celebration, of springtime, using a weighted cord to square a stone, looking up to a hawk gliding, feeling that the work was good and the whole world just right.

A red-tailed hawk rose high on an air current, calling out shrill, sequential rasps of raptor joy. She scanned the sky for another one. Usually when they spoke like that, they were mating. Once she'd seen a pair of them coupling on the wing, grappling and clutching each other and tumbling curve-winged through the air in hundred-foot death dives that made her gasp, though always they uncoupled and sailed outward and up again just before they were bashed to death in senseless passion.

No aru taka wa, tsume o kakusu, as the Japanese saying goes. The hawk with talent hides its talons.

The hawk with talent hides its talons.

The hawk does not fear you, boy, and the hawk never will. The hawk is God's gunslinger.

You cannot friend a hawk, they said, unless you are half a hawk yourself, alone and only a sojourner in the land, without friends or the need of them. The hawk pays no coinage to love or morals.

Not Brangien who was faithful, not Brangien, but themselves had these lovers to fear, for hearts so stricken will lose their vigilance. Love pressed them hard, as thirst presses the dying stag to the stream; love dropped upon them from high heaven, as a hawk slipped after long hunger falls right upon the bird. And love will not be hidden.

A hawk swooped overhead and Mapleshade imagined it feasting on Ravenwing's body after she had finished with him. He would bleed a river of blood, every drop spilled for her helpless kits. . .

A serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.

And then there's all these other creeps that surround your band and suck off you like leeches and try to manipulate you and your business. You have to watch like a hawk. I'm always ready to fight. I see it very much as a battle.