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Cicadas Quotes

Browse 27 quotes about Cicadas.

Cicadas Quotes

“The sidewalks were haunted by dust ghosts all night as the furnace wind summoned them up, swung them about, and gentled them down in a warm spice on the lawns. Trees, shaken by the footsteps of late-night strol- lers, sifted avalanches of dust. From midnight on, it seemed a volcano beyond the town was showering red-hot ashes every- where, crusting slumberless night watchmen and irritable dogs. Each house was a yellow attic smoldering with spon- taneous combustion at three in the morning. Dawn, then, was a time where things changed element for element. Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with no sound. The lake was a quantity of steam very still and deep over valleys of fish and sand held baking under its serene vapors. Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks were brass and gold, roof tops were paved with bronze. The high- tension wires were lightning held forever, blazing, a threat above the unslept houses. The cicadas sang louder and yet louder. The sun did not rise, it overflowed.”

SummerHeatCicadas
Book:Dandelion Wine
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“The electric hum of cicadas, which was a low drone near the road, become an overwhelming vibration in the neck-deep brush that had taken back what was once a long driveway and front yard. By the time I reached the structure, beads of sweat were rolling off my lips and the tip of my nose, and my skin was covered in the slick of Louisiana humidity.”

AbandonedLouisianaHumidityCicadasLouisiana BayouMike CorrellSulphurAbandoned HouseAbandoned BuildingNrg Creations
Book:Abandoned Sulphur, Louisiana
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“Cicadas," Poppy said. "This is the only place you'll see them in England. They're usually found only in the tropics. Only a male cicada makes that noise- it's said to be a mating song." "How do you know he's not commenting on the weather?" Sending him a provocative sideways glance, Poppy murmured, "Well, mating is rather a male preoccupation, isn't it?" Harry smiled. "If there's a more interesting subject," he said, "I have yet to discover it.”

MatingSuggestiveCicadasPoppy And Harry
Book:Tempt Me at Twilight
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“In late summer, when sprays of purple loosestrife, goldenrod, and ripening cranberries burst into color along the old road cutting through the Great Marsh of West Barnstable on Cape Cod, the air vibrated with the drumbeat of cicadas, the caws of seagulls and geese.”

GeeseMarshesCape CodCicadasCranberriesLooseLate SummerGolden RodLoosestrifeSea Gulls
Book:The Muse of the Revolution: The Secret Pen of Mercy Otis Warren and the Founding of a Nation
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“How do you fancy making some dark cherry ganache with me, and we can fill these little yuzu shells with that instead? They can be a temporary special: a macaron de saison." I scrape the offending basil mixture into the bin. "Whatever you want." Her brightening eyes betray her. "That's the enthusiasm I was looking for," I reply, smiling. "What shall we call them then? It has to be French." We surrender to a thoughtful silence. Outside the cicadas are playing their noisy summer symphony. I imagine them boldly serenading one another from old tires, forgotten woodpiles, discarded plastic noodle bowls. "Something about summer..." she mumbles. After conferring with my worn, flour-dusted French-English dictionary, we agree on 'Brise d'Ete.”

FrenchFlavorsCicadasSummer BreezeMacaronsDark CherryYuzu
Book:The Color of Tea
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“I closed my eyes and listened to the occasional chirps of tiny birds hidden in the trees around us, the bubbling of water over rocks down below, cicadas rattling a chorus off in the distance. All sounds of the world carrying on like it always had. So much could change or be lost, and still, the rest of the world went on like it was nothing. It didn't seem wrong, but it didn't seem right either. I'd gone on today like it was nothing. I'd laughed and felt happy and forgotten for a little while that this was now a world without my brother in it.”

WorldLittlesStillsSeemsEyeTodayLostFeltSoundWaterGoneTreeRocksBrotherBirdDistanceForgottenTinyMy BrotherLaughedOccasionalChorusCarrying OnCicadas
Author:Jessi Kirby
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“Life is the blossoming of flowers in the spring, the ripening of fruit in the fall, the rhythm of the earth and of nature. Life is the cry of cicadas signalling the end of summer, migratory birds winging south in a transparent autumn sky, fish frolicking in a stream. Life is the joy beautiful music installs in us, the thrilling sight of a mountain peak reddened by the rising sun, the myriad combinations and permutations of visible and invisible phenomena. Life is all things.”

EndsEarthBeautifulLife IsJoyFallSunSkyCryFlowerMountainSummerSpringBirdAll ThingsSightSouthFruitFishesInvisibleRhythmCombinationStreamsRisingVisibleAutumnThrillingTransparentBlossomingEnd Of SummerRipeningBeautiful MusicNature LifeMountain PeaksCicadasMigratory Birds
Author:Daisaku Ikeda
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“Who when examining in the cabinet of the entomologist the gay and exotic butterflies, and singular cicadas, will associate with these lifeless objects, the ceaseless harsh music of the latter, and the lazy flight of the former - the sure accompaniments of the still, glowing noonday of the tropics.”

StillsObjectsGayFlightFormerLazyLatterButterflyHarshAssociatesGlowingCabinetsExoticExaminingLifelessTropicsCicadas
Book:Journal of Researches Into the Natural History and Geology of the Countries Visited During the Voyage of H.M.S. Beagle Round the World: Under the Command of Capt. Fitz Roy
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“Don't buy society’s definition of success. Because it’s not working for anyone. It’s not working for women, it's not working for men, it's not working for polar bears, it's not working for the cicadas that are apparently about to emerge and swarm us. It’s only truly working for those who make pharmaceuticals for stress, sleeplessness and high blood pressure.”

MenHeartBloodBearsDiseaseStressPressureDefinitionsGraduationDiabetesHeart DiseaseSwarmsBlood PressureSleeplessnessDefinition Of SuccessPolar BearsHigh Blood PressureCicadas
Author:Arianna Huffington
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“The air was cold to the lungs, the long grass dripping wet, and the herbs on it gave out their spiced astringent scent. In a little while on all sides the Cicada would begin to sing. The grass was me , and the air, the distant invisible mountains were me, the tired oxen were me. I breathed with the slight night-wind in the thorn trees.”

LittlesLongNightSidesAirTreeWindColdMountainTiredInvisibleGrassWetScentLungsHerbsDrippingOxenCicadasLong Grass
Book:Out of Africa
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“In White Summer, Joelle Biele exhibits a Roethke-like affinity with nature and natures creatures. At times a miniaturist, Biele constructs exquisite addresses to a heron, cicada, spider, catalpa tree, mockingbird, snail, cormorant, and others. These pitch-perfect poems are written with a delicate, meticulous attention to craft and music. Like the joy she takes in her subjects, this collection is a joy to read.”

JoyWhitePerfectAttentionWrittenTreeSubjectsCreaturesSummerCraftsCollectionsAddressesDelicateConstructsSpidersExquisiteExhibitsAffinitySnailMeticulousMockingbirdHeronsCicadasPitch Perfect
Author:Elizabeth Spires
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“The heat is searing and superb. The paddocks surrounding the town are bleached blond. The distant ring-barked gums, mile after mile, wriggle in the heat-waves, and seem to melt like the bristles of a melting hairbrush. The hills turn powder-blue and gauzy. Mirages resembling pools of mica and shallows of crystal water appear at the far ends of streets and roads. Punctually at eleven every burning morning, the cicadas begin to drill the air, to drill themselves also, ceaselessly and relentlessly, to death in one short day after seven long years underground.”

YearsLongEndsSeemsTurnsWaterNatureMorningAirStreetsTownsBlueSevenWaveRingsMilesBurningHillsHeatPoolCrystalsElevenMeltingDrillsPowderGumSuperbMiragesCicadasHeat Wave
Author:Hal Porter
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“Counting stars by candlelight all are dim but one is bright; the spiral light of Venus rising first and shining best, from the northwest corner of a brand-new crescent moon crickets and cicadas sing a rare and different tune.”

FirstsDifferentLightUniverseStarsMoonShiningCornersBrandsRisingTunesCricketCountingBrand NewVenusSpiralsCandlelightCrescentCicadasCrescent Moon
Book:The Complete Annotated Grateful Dead Lyrics: The Collected Lyrics of Robert Hunter and John Barlow, Lyrics to All Original Songs, with Selected Traditional and Cover Songs
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“He was sure that he was not the cause of the abrupt silence. His passage through the canyon had not previously disturbed either birds or cicadas. Something was out there. An intruder of which the ordinary forest creatures clearly did not approve. He took a deep breath and held it again, straining to hear the slightest movement in the woods. This time he detected the rustle of brush, a snapping twig, the soft crunch of dry leaves-and the unnervingly peculiar, heavy, ragged breathing of something big.”

BigsCausesSilenceMovementCreaturesBirdOrdinaryBreathsHeavyWoodsForestsBreathingDryPeculiarPassagesBrushesDisturbedDeep BreathCanyonsRaggedTwigsCrunchIntrudersSnappingCicadasDry Leaves
Author:Dean Koontz
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“Mama used to tell us a story about a cicada sitting high in a tree. It chirps and drinks in dew, oblivious to the praying mantis behind it. The mantis arches up its front leg to stab the cicada, but it doesn't know an oriole perches behind it. The bird stretches out its neck to snap up the mantis for a midday meal, but its unaware of the boy who's come into the garden with a net. Three creatures—the cicada, the mantis and the oriole—all coveted gains without being aware of the greater and inescapable danger that was coming.”

KnowsStoriesUsedThreeBehindsBoysGreaterTreeFrontsDangerPrayingDrinkCreaturesBirdSittingGainsGardenLegsMealsNecksMamaDewSnapsArchesObliviousCicadasPraying Mantis
Author:Lisa See
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