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Fauna Quotes

Browse 22 quotes about Fauna.

Fauna Quotes

“Aurora Rose looked back and forth among the three women, gladly distracted from the sad events by the puzzle before her. The fairies in real life had their own personalities, of course, despite their superficial similarities as ageless, chatty, loving aunt figures. Flora tended to try to lead and make decisions for them. Merryweather seemed to understand the basic workings of the world better, although she rarely acted on this knowledge and instead chose to comment snarkily on it. Sometimes she got sneaky and went behind Flora's back. Fauna was the one who hugged the princess the most and often acted as an intermediary between the other two. The green one, "Fauna," seemed more concerned with how Aurora Rose was feeling- how 'everyone' was feeling. She was the one who had been waiting outside the cottage for the prince and princess. Like she was the one who 'cared.' And the blue one- "Merryweather"- seemed 'incredibly' quick-minded and brilliant. And even snarkier. "Flora" was brave and powerful and ready to plunge into any physical combat. And not for nothing, she was built like a gladiator. They were 'all' acting like extreme versions of their real selves.”

ThreeFairiesFloraPersonalitiesFaunaDifferent PersonalitiesMerryweather
Book:Once Upon a Dream
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“There can be no doubt that the existing Fauna and Flora is but the last term of a long series of equally numerous contemporary species, which have succeeded one another, by the slow and gradual substitution of species for species, in the vast interval of time which has elapsed between the deposition of the earliest fossiliferous strata and the present day.”

ScienceTimeDoubtEvolutionSpeciesBiologyExtinctionGeologyFloraFlora And FaunaFaunaFossilStrata
Book:Advance of Science in the Last Half-Century, The
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“To make a tarte of strawberyes," wrote Margaret Parker in 1551, "take and strayne theym with the yolkes of four eggs, and a little whyte breade grated, then season it up with suger and swete butter and so bake it." And Jess, who had spent the past year struggling with Kant's Critiques, now luxuriated in language so concrete. Tudor cookbooks did not theorize, nor did they provide separate ingredient lists, or scientific cooking times or temperatures. Recipes were called receipts, and tallied materials and techniques together. Art and alchemy were their themes, instinct and invention. The grandest performed occult transformations: flora into fauna, where, for example, cooks crushed blanched almonds and beat them with sugar, milk, and rose water into a paste to "cast Rabbets, Pigeons, or any other little bird or beast." Or flour into gold, gilding marchpane and festive tarts. Or mutton into venison, or fish to meat, or pig to fawn, one species prepared to stand in for another.”

Old BooksPoultryOld EnglishFaunaTransformationsCookbooksJess BachTudor
Book:The Cookbook Collector
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“Me miró, desde su altura, de una manera tal que me dio vuelta todo lo que tenía en el alma. Si alguien me mirara así cada tres o cuatro meses, estoy seguro de que mi vida sería digna de una biografía en varios tomos. En la mirada esa había de todo: agresión y ternura, desafío y ruego, erotismo, desdén, caricias, puñales, hielo, fuego, música… Me sentí como si un caballo me hubiera pateado la cabeza con las herraduras de los dos cascos traseros al mismo tiempo, pero dándose maña para hacerme sentir que me estaba haciendo un favor.”

MarioUruguayFaunaDesplazamientosLevrero
Book:Fauna / Desplazamientos
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“Scattered trees, never thick enough to be a forest, were everywhere. Shasta, who had lived all his life in an almost tree-less grassland, had never seen so many or so many kinds. If you had been there you would probably have known (he didn't) that he was seeing oaks, beeches, silver birches, rowans, and sweet chestnuts. Rabbits scurried away in every direction as they advanced, and presently they saw a whole herd of fallow deer making off among the trees.”

TreesFaunaShastaArchenland
Book:The Horse and His Boy
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“The Foundry Man All day, every day; a head that pounds to the rhythm of beating hammers. Feet, numbed from the vibrations of heavy machinery, and skin that glows crimson from the blistering heat of the furnace. Sweat glistens on his furrowed brow, sweat that runs in rivulets to eyes already sore from black, putrid dust. This is the lot of the foundry man. Not for him fresh air, green fields, or the sun on his back. He has a heart of gold, strength of steel. He is a man of iron.”

FloraFauna
Author:Mrs A. Perry
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“The grass in the meadow is wet and the ground gives a little beneath her feet. The herd of alpacas that have taken up residence in the meadow graze in the far distance. Maggie cuts a path towards the distant stile, watching as a flock of starlings take flight, swooping up from the earth and across the bone-colored sky until they come to settle in the treetops. Stepping into the woods, Maggie senses the shift in atmosphere; here the air is a little cleaner, the light a little softer, glancing off the smooth, silver-grey trunks and dancing in the green canopy. She breathes the trees' exhalation, takes it in and makes it her own, inhales the moist-earth scent rising up beneath her boots and fills her lungs. The leaves rustle in the breeze, dripping the last of the raindrops in a steady beat.”

Natures BeautyLiving In The MomentNature WalkFauna
Book:The Peacock Summer
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“It's just that the animals matter in a way that's hard to define. They matter not only because a particular species will die out if we don't lock its last members away in here, but because they belong to us, to the whole story of this Earth, and without them the story would not be as beautiful or as profound. Anyone who has ever stopped to watch a hummingbird beat its tiny wings to a stillness as it draws the nectar out of a flower with its long, curled tongue will know what I mean. The natural world is beautiful even when it is terrible, even when it is engaged in ritual slaughter. Any antelope who has ever felt the hot breath of a lion on its neck will know what I mean. In that last moment of its life, the antelope surely regrets that it will never again experience the thrum of the savannah under hoof, the generous shade of the acacia tree, the smell of water running over smooth white rocks. It wishes not to have to leave this beautiful world. The natural world and the nonhuman beings in it are part of what makes this life worth living. If we kill all the beauty around us, we kill a part of ourselves. These thoughts whirl around pointlessly in my head, never resolving, just coming back to their starting point like a snake devouring its tail.”

EarthNatureEnvironmentAnimalsNatural WorldWildlifeFauna
Book:The Island of Last Things
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“Much as I'd always enjoyed the balm of the plants and flowers, it had never occurred to me to aspire to work in here. I suppose I've been so single-mindedly committed to the animals, with their flesh-and-blood needs and their inescapable demands, that these other gentler living things have been obscured to me. I regret that now. There was always so much more than I have allowed myself to see.”

AbundanceAnimalsFlowersLiving ThingsPlantsFloraFauna
Book:The Island of Last Things
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“Though the garden brought no profit in winter, it had its own beauty. The white canopy over the glass house sparkled on bright days. The gazing ball grew a crystalline moon. Downy snow on the herb beds and flower gardens caught the light in soft, variant blues and mauves. Reddily clustered berries against the drifts formed a pretty picture. A frosted crescent blanketed the bench where Lavender and her father used to sit, listening to Amaryllis Fitch's divine harp concerts. And the winter garden wasn't silent, either. Chickadees in their black caps twittered about, and Lavender left a pan of seeds out for them. Rabbits' tracks crooked across the slumbering perennials and bulbs.”

SnowNatures BeautyFaunaWinter Garden
Book:The Apothecary's Garden
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“Bald eagles wheeled above the Sound, their commanding silhouettes outlined by blue sky. Belted kingfishers, with their fluffy topknots, often left their perches in the trees along the beach to flutter their blue-and-white plumage past my bunker. They eyed me through the unglazed window with fearless curiosity. River otters scooched along the beach below me sometimes, and once in a while I saw an orca breach, carving an arc between sea and sky. Their sleek black-and-white beauty was no less majestic than that of the eagles, and I cheered softly when I caught sight of them.”

BirdsNatures BeautyFaunaOrca
Book:The Witch's Kind
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