Best 1556 quotes in «bird quotes» category

Since I had my gastric bypass surgery in 1998, I eat like a bird. Unfortunately, that bird is a California condor.

Since the early bird catches the worm, it's a good idea to begin your day as soon as you can -- unless, of course, you happen to be a worm.

Small birds throw seeds out of the feeder; large birds pick them up off the ground, but the squirrels try to muscle in.

Some minds corrode and grow inactive under the loss of personal liberty; others grow morbid and irritable; but it is the nature of the poet to become tender and imaginitive in the loneliness of confinement. He banquets upon the honey of his own thoughts, and, like the captive bird, pours forth his soul in melody.

Some newspapers are fit only to line the bottom of bird cages.

Some of the most beautiful bird calls are cries of distress and fear....these sculptures are a way for me to express my cry.

Some people are mistaken, they think birds need feed to survive, but they don't. The main reason to feed birds is to enjoy them.

Some say that ever 'gainst the season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor wi

Sometimes I see a bird fly by and I feel jealous. But then other times I see a bird fly into a closed window and I feel laughing.

Sometimes the early bird gets the worm, but sometimes the early bird gets frozen to death.

Some tribes of birds will relieve and rear up the young and helpless, of their own and other tribes, when abandoned.

somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

So say it loud and let it ring We are all a part of everything The future, present and the past Fly on proud bird You're free at last

Sound... if you look at bats you know that navigate with sonar, they're like you know they're very precise. They can even see a bat head towards a building and swerve away, but you'll see a bird that doesn't... you know smash right into a glass window. It's very funny.

So you have you price," I said with a mouthful of crumbs. "Your soul for a cookie." Fang made sure Dr. Martinez wasn't looking and then shot me the bird.

So we live in an accelerating possibility curve.  Perhaps we can't control it, but we can learn to ride it like a surfer on a wave or a bird on a thermal, to use its power to take us where we want to go - to live in uncertainty and yet act with confidence.

Speed is what distinguishes intelligence. No bird discovers how to fly: evolution used a trillion bird-years to 'discover' that – where merely hundreds of person-years sufficed.

Speaking about symmetry, look out our window, and you may see a cardinal attacking its reflection in the window. The cardinal is the only bird we have who often does this. If it has a nest nearby, the cardinal thinks there is another cardinal trying to invade its territory. It never realizes it is attacking its own reflection. Cardinals don't know much about mirror symmetry!

Spirituality is like a bird: If you hold it too closely, it chokes, And if you hold it too loosely, it escapes.

Spring: trees flying up to their birds

Spotted Park Bench I am a park bench. Ordinary words cannot express my thoughts on birds.

Stand in despair anywhere old-growth forest has been clear-felled. All life has been replaced by blackened, poisoned desolation. Animals and birds have either fled or been killed, and baits are laid waiting for those that should return. And in these tortured places, the devastation is brutal and total. And this is what greed looks like.

Staring at her face, she began to fancy her outer layer had begun to melt away while she wasn't paying attention, and something -- some new skeleton -- was emerging from beneath the softness of her accustomed self. With a deep, visceral ache, she wished her true form might prove to be a sleek and shining one, like a stiletto blade slicing free of an ungainly sheath. Like a bird of prey losing its hatchling fluff to hunt in cold, magnificent skies. That she might become something glittering, something startling, something dangerous.

Success is full of promise till one gets it, and then it seems like a nest from which the bird has flown.

Still I sojourn here, alone and palely loitering, though the sedge is withered from the lake and no birds sing. For I sent the bath towel to the wash this morning, and omitted to put out another. I have no towel.

Stories are like birds flying, here and gone in a moment.

Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.

Sundown had bloodied the horizon over the uneven rooftops of South Boston. Birds were perched on every roof and seemed to be watching the girl walking slowly below. - Cradle and All

Surely no child, and few adults, have ever watched a bird in flight without envy.

Sweet bird that shunn'st the nose of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among, I woo, to hear thy even-song.

Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.

Swinburne was an absurd character. He was a bird of showy strut and plumage. One could not but admire his glorious feathers; but, as soon as he began to moult ... one saw how very little body there was underneath.

Sweetie, nothing that flies looks safe, including birds.

Suspicion amongst thoughts are like bats amongst birds, they never fly by twilight.

Take your tent and go for the camping! You are dying in the cities! Thousands of stars, hundreds of birds, tens of flowers are waiting for you to heal you!

Take the birds which you'll have noticed in so many of my recent paintings. I never thought them up, they just materialized of their own accord; they were born on the canvas... it is absurd to read any sort of symbolic significance into them.

Take whatever cause for outward happiness you might have and take it within yourself, so that, if the sun should go out, you will not be any less happy; if the birds stop singing you will not be any less happy.

Thanks for this day, for all birds safe in their nests, for whatever this is, for life.

Temptations, of course, cannot be avoided, but because we cannot prevent the birds from flying over our heads, there is no need that we should let them nest in our hair.

Thanksgiving was nothing more than a pilgrim-created obstacle in the way of Christmas; a dead bird in the street that forced a brief detour.

Tame birds sing of freedom. Wild birds fly.

Tell me why the caged bird nutters against its prison bars, and I will tell you why the soul sickens of earthliness. The bird has wings, and wings were made to cleave the air, and soar in freedom in the sun. The soul is immortal it cannot feed upon husks.

That is how I think of peace and peace of mind-as timid birds that we have to search for, not bold ones that come looking for us.

That night, like every other night since I’d met her, I curled Grace into my arms, listening to her parents’ muffled movements in the living room. They were like busy little brainless birds, fluttering in and out of their nest at all hours of the day or night, so involved in the pleasure of nest building that they hadn’t noticed that it had been empty for years.

That knowledge humbles me, melts my bones, closes my ears, and makes my teeth rock loosely in their gums. And it also liberates me. I am a big bird winging over high mountains, down into serene valleys. I am ripples of waves on silver seas. I'm a spring leaf trembling in anticipation.

That's true that Sen. Robert Bird was in the Klan and a lot of people were friends of Robert Byrd in the U.S. Senate, Democrats and Republicans.

That's like asking you to pick your favorite child... I do however, think Bird on a Wire was one of my finest works. Oscar caliber.

That swimming, sloping, elusive something about the dark-bluish tint of the iris which seemed still to retain the shadows it had absorbed of ancient, fabulous forests where there were more birds than tigers and more fruit than thorns, and where, in some dappled depth, man's mind had been born.

The ancients could communicate with the gods in two ways. First, it was (and is) possible to go into a trance and visit the gods in their celestial retreats, as the great shamans have always done. More easily, and less dangerously, they could let the gods speak through code, that is, divination, using dice, entrails, bird patterns, yarrow sticks, cards.