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Bird Quotes

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Bird Quotes

“In railway halls, on pavements near the traffic, They beg, their eyes made big by empty staring And only measuring Time , like the blank clock. No, I shall weave no tracery of pen-ornament To make them birds upon my singing tree: Time merely drives these lives which do not live As tides push rotten stuff along the shore.”

MadeBigsEyeStuffTreeSingingBirdEmptyClockStaringHallsPensShoreTidesBlankTrafficRottenOrnamentsMeasuringPavementRailway
Book:New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender
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“Eric Peters is a chronicler of his journey; he's been a faithful steward of the story God is telling through him, and this newest chapter, BiRDS OF RELOCATiON, is Eric's testimony that along the way there are moments of deep joy and gratitude-they may seem brief, but they're bright, and they're worth singing about. The joy I hear on this record heralds a long and welcome peace.”

WayMayLongMomentsStoriesSeemsJoyRecordsJourneyGratitudeSingingBirdWelcomeFaithfulPeterChaptersTestimonyEricStewardsJoy And Gratitude
Author:Andrew Peterson
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“Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com'st. Suppose the singing birds musicians, The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strewed, The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delight measure or a dance; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.”

MenWayLooksSoulLightLyingImaginationStepsImagineHe ManFlowerSorrowMusicianSingingBirdFairsDearDelightGrassBitesSinging Birds
Book:King Richard II: Third Series
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“Make fun of death. We are as dead as it gets, and we are fully aware of this joyous experience. We are with you every time you allow it. We are in every singing bird and in every joyful child. We are part of every delicious pulsing in your environment. We are not dead, and neither will you ever be! You will just get up, one day, and get out of the movie.”

ChildrenFunEnvironmentOne DaySingingBirdAdversityGet UpBe YouJoyfulDeliciousOur EnvironmentJoyousSinging Birds
Author:Esther Hicks
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“The imaginative young vagabond quickly loses the social instincts that help to make life bearable for other men. Always he hears voices calling in the night from far-away places where blue waters lap strange shores. He hears birds singing and crickets chirping a luring roundelay. He sees the moon, yellow ghost of a dead planet, haunting the earth.”

MenHelpingEarthYoungNightSocialVoiceWaterLosesStrangePlanetsCallingMoonSingingBirdBlueInstinctGhostShoreYellowFar AwayCricketImaginativeHauntingLapBearableVagabondsBlue Water
Book:Beggars of Life: A Hobo Autobiography
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“What is more cheerful, now, in the fall of the year, than an open-wood-fire? Do you hear those little chirps and twitters coming out of that piece of apple-wood? Those are the ghosts of the robins and blue-birds that sang upon the bough when it was in blossom last Spring. In Summer whole flocks of them come fluttering about the fruit-trees under the window: so I have singing birds all the year round.”

YearsLittlesWholeLastsFallFirePiecesTreeSummerSpringSingingBirdWindowBlueFruitRoundsWoodsGhostApplesComing OutCheerfulFlocksRobinsFlutteringFruit TreesSinging BirdsBirds Chirping
Book:Marjorie Daw and Other People
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“There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone.”

IfsKnowsMindWarDoneCareLastsNightSoundWhiteGoneFireTreeMankindSpringSingingLowsBirdRainSmellDawnPoolFenceWireFrogsWhimRobinsPlumsWhistling
Book:Collected Poems
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“EVERYONE suddenly burst out singing; And I was filled with such delight As prisoned birds must find in freedom, Winging wildly across the white Orchards and dark-green fields; on—on—and out of sight. Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted; And beauty came like the setting sun: My heart was shaken with tears; and horror Drifted away ... O, but Everyone Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.”

HeartDoneSongVoiceDarkWhiteSunFieldsTearsMy HeartHorrorSingingBirdSightGreenFilledDelightSettingSettingsOrchardGreen Fields
Author:Siegfried Sassoon
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“Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that's the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing. Nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him if he gives too much.”

IfsGivingHeartChildrenCountryRunningEarthWaterLaughingSunFireToo MuchLandCryMountainSingingBirdRedMovedSilentFingersSettingSettingsBelovedValleysUnbornUnborn ChildBeloved CountryCry The Beloved Country
Book:Cry, the beloved country: a verse drama
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“Out of the sea will rise Behemoth and Leviathan, and sail 'round the high-pooped galleys... Dragons will wander about the waste places, and the phoenix will soar from her nest of fire into the air. We shall lay our hands upon the basilisk, and see the jewel in the toad's head. Champing his gilded oats, the Hippogriff will stand in our stalls, and over our heads will float the Blue Bird singing of beautiful and impossible things, of things that are lovely and that never happen, of things that are not and that should be.”

ShouldHandsHappensBeautifulFireImpossibleAirSeaWasteSingingBirdBlueLaysRoundsLovelyWanderDragonsSailSoarJewelsFloatsNestsPhoenixImpossible ThingsToadsGildedLeviathanOatsBehemoth
Author:Oscar Wilde
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“Nothing is easier than to admit in words the truth of the universal struggle for life, or more difficult - at least I have found it so - than constantly to bear this conclusion in mind...We behold the face of nature bright with gladness...We do not see, or we forget, that the birds which are idly singing round us mostly live on insects and seeds, and are thus constantly destroying life.”

MindFacesFoundDifficultForgetStruggleBearsEasierSingingBirdUniversalRoundsSeedsConclusionDestroyingInsectsGladness
Author:Charles Darwin
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“Each of us has something within us which won't be denied, even if it makes us scream aloud to die. We are what we are, that's all. Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its breast, singing its heart out and dying. Because it has to, its self-knowledge can't affect or change the outcome, can it? Everyone singing his own little song, convinced it's the most wonderful song the world has ever heard. Don't you see? We create our own thorns, and never stop to count the cost. All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it.”

IfsWorldWellsHeartLittlesSelfPainSufferingSongDiesCan DoWonderfulHeardDyingCostSingingBirdConvincedOutcomesBreastsLegendsScreamDeniedSelf KnowledgeWorth ItThornsCeltic
Book:The Thorn Birds
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“The bird with the thorn in its breast, it follows an immutable law; it is driven by it knows not what to impale itself, and die singing. At the very instant the thorn enters there is no awareness in it of the dying to come; it simply sings and sings until there is not the life left to utter another note. But we, when we put the thorns in our breasts, we know. We understand. And still we do it. Still we do it.”

KnowsStillsLawDiesLeftDyingAwarenessSingingBirdNotesDrivenInstantBreastsThorns
Book:The Thorn Birds
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“Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced that even the smallest particle of the surrounding world was charged with purpose of impossible grandeur; ah, yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind- loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the high, melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies in the perfumed heat of summer night.”

WorldLooksLongStillsMomentsPurposeNightPassionStrongGivenFeltHoursForeverImpossibleTreeWindPromiseSummerSingingBirdRiversGoldDown AndConvincedHeatStreamsLook UpPaleLong AgoSmallestParticlesGrandeurAlteredCarried AwayFireflySummer NightsFoliageBasking
Book:Collected Poems
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