Quotes about Birds

But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began: The winds with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kist, Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.

There are joys which long to be ours. God sends ten thousand truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing a while upon the roof and then fly away.

She is like the morning," he said. "With that golden hair, those blue eyes, and that fresh bloom on her cheek, she is like the summer morning. The birds here will mistake her for it. We will not call such a lovely young creature as that, who is a joy to all mankind, an orphan. She is the child of the universe.

But, the time was not come yet; and every wind that blew over France shook their rags of the scarecrows in vain, for the birds, fine of song and feather, took no warning.

My days have been so wondrous free,The little birds that flyWith careless ease from tree to tree,Were but as bless'd as I.

In the spring of the year birds began to arrive on the beach from across the gulf. Weary passerines. Vireos. Kingbirds and grosbeaks. Too exhausted to move. You could pick them up out of the sand and hold them trembling in your palm. Their small hearts beating and their eyes shuttering. He walked the beach with his flashlight the whole of the night to fend away predators and toward the dawn he slept with them in the sand. That none disturb these passengers.

She came down the steps slowly, madonna bereaved, so grief-stunned and wooden pieta of perpetual dawn, the birds were hushed in the presence of this gravity and the derelict that she had taken for the son of light himself was consumed in shame like a torch. She touched him as a blind person might. Deep in the floor of her welling eyes dead leaves scudding. Please go away, she said.

What cities the light or warmth penetrates I penetrate those cities myself, All islands to which birds wing their way I wing my way myself.

It is just dawn, daylight: that gray and lonely suspension filled with the peaceful and tentative waking of birds. The air, inbreathed, is like spring water. He breathes deep and slow, feeling with each breath himself diffuse in the natural grayness, becoming one with loneliness and quiet that has never known fury or despair. That was all I wanted, he thinks, in a quiet and slow amazement. That was all, for thirty years. That didn't seem to be a whole lot to ask in thirty years.

I think that unless we know more about machines and their use, unless we better understand the mechanical portion of life; we are not able to enjoy the trees, the birds, the flowers, the green fields, the sky and the nature to the fullest (~a little edited *_^*).

I think that unless we know more about machines and their use, unless we better understand the mechanical portion of life; we are not able to enjoy the trees, the birds, the flowers, the sky and the nature to the fullest (~a little edited *_^*).

There are joys which long to be ours. God sends ten thousands truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile upon the roof, and then fly away.