Birds In Fiction Quotes & Sayings

You want in all cases for the story to get through the writing. — Alice Munro

So did you bring me down here to show me how artistic you are?"
"No, I just wanted to talk to you alone. You know ... get to know each other better." "In case you didn't notice, we were alone outside," I responded, with a raised brow. "Unless you think the birds were eavesdropping on our conversation." Concealed — Sang Kromah

Do you mean that Zane is some kind of bird magnet? — C.J. Milbrandt

You can dance.
You can make me laugh.
You've got x-ray eyes.

You know how to sing.
You're a diplomat.
You've got it all.
Everybody loves you.

You can charm the birds out of the sky, But I, I've got
one thing.

You always know just what to say
And when to go,
But I've got one thing.

You can see in the dark,
But I've got one thing:
I loved you better.

Last night I woke up,
Saw this angel.
He flew in my window.
And he said,
Girl, pretty proud of yourself, huh?" And I looked around and said,
Who me?"
And he said, "The higher you fly, the faster you fall."

He said, "Send it up.
Watch it rise.
See it fall,
Gravity's rainbow.
Send it up.
Watch it rise.
See it fall,
Gravity's Angel. — Laurie Anderson

The familiar song of a night-singing nightingale rises from somewhere in the garden. A nightingale that in this season of cold should not be in the garden, a nightingale that in a thousand verses of Iranian poetry, in the hours of darkness, for the love of a red rose and in sorrow of its separation from it, has forever sung and will forever sing. — Shahriar Mandanipour

I have seen many cases like N. during the five years I've been in practice. I sometimes picture these unfortunates as men and women being pecked to death by predatory birds. The birds are invisible - at least until a psychiatrist who is good, or lucky, or both, sprays them with his version of Luminol and shines the right light on them - but they are nevertheless very real. The wonder is that so many OCDs manage to live productive lives, just the same. They work, they eat (often not enough or too much, it's true), they go to movies, they make love to their girlfriends and boyfriends, their wives and husbands ... and all the time those birds are there, clinging to them and pecking away little bits of flesh. — Stephen King

Rooks have clustered on either side of the long road. It is as if they line a grand parade route for our passage. Their black feathers are stark as soot against the white road and the snow. They stab at the ground with their strange bare bills and gray unfeathered faces. The birds are like rough-edged black stones on a string around this stripped cold neck of road. The old books tell us rooks bring the virtuous dead to heaven's gate. — Ned Hayes

He nodded, looking across the room at the sea of photographers and journalists. The microphones spread around him like birds waiting to be fed. — F.C. Malby

Fantasy? That's for the Fire Birds. Fantasy, even when it takes science-fictional forms, which it often does, is dangerous. It is escapist. It is daydreaming. It has nothing to do with the world and the world's problems.
So said the snobs who did not know themselves as snobs. — Ray Bradbury

Ebb and flow, ebb and flow, our lives. Is that why we're fascinated by the steadfastness of stars? The water reaches my calves. I begin the story of the Pleiades, women transformed into birds so Swift and bright that no man could snare them. — Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

We sat still, our breathing loud and rhythmic, its music melancholy, a traditional song of sorrow. — Margot McCuaig

The words! I collected them in all shapes and sizes and hung them like bangles in my mind. — Hortense Calisher

There was a small stand of trees nearby, and from it you could hear the mechanical cry of a bird that sounded as if it were winding a spring. We called it the wind-up bird. Kumiko gave it the name. We didn't know what it was really called or what it looked like, but that didn't bother the wind-up bird. Every day it would come to the stand of trees in our neighborhood and wind the spring of our quiet little world. — Haruki Murakami

Good fortune is a god among men, and more than a god. — Aeschylus

It is often said that the best leaders are those who serve. — Michael Kirby

You can't blame yourself for what Socrates did. Those birds came because he wanted them to come, at least a part of him did. The pissed off part. Let that roll around in your brain for a while."
Jamie considered this. "No, Eddie. The hurt part, that's what did it."
The crow shrieked again. It seemed louder, and that meant it was closer. Or maybe it was another crow, maybe several. Jamie and Eddie looked toward the sky, listening to the screams. Jamie spoke first.
"We can't let it happen again. We may be the only ones who know the truth about what Socrates can do."
"That thought probably has occurred to Socrates too. — Kenneth C. Goldman

Private Eye continued to report that the stench in the Houses of Parliament was just as strong as it had been on the day when the birds flew away and the rodents fled. — Stephen Vizinczey

Free markets are the real people's revolution. — Jeffrey Tucker

I'm pretty much awake now." (P) "The last time I said that, I passed out in the bathtub." (I) "I remember that. Neil covered you with towels and said that he found a mermaid." (P) "You were so beautiful, Mummy. Like Ice Bird when he freezes the pigs." (N) "Thank you, sweet."
Ingrid, Paul and Neil. — Bailey Cunningham

I don't even have voice mail, and people get all out of shape about that. But, you know what, I don't want to transcribe your message; I want to talk to you. And that kind of freaks people out a bit. They go, 'Oh, who has time to talk?' and I'm like, 'Well, I'm gonna make time.' — Anita Baker

Maybe it's a tired tale, but without an education, you're not going to go anywhere. — H. G. Bissinger

Sometimes, during the lonely hours on the control deck, Bowman would listen to this radiation. He would turn up the gain until the room filled with a crackling, hissing roar; out of this background, at irregular intervals, emerged brief whistles and peeps like the cries of demented birds. It was an eerie sound, for it had nothing to do with Man; it was as lonely and meaningless as the murmur of waves on a beach, or the distant crash of thunder beyond the horizon. — Arthur C. Clarke

Birds are everywhere in our literature, a part, it seems, of our collective poetic imagination. If writing a beautiful line of poetry fills a poet's heart with joy, imagine how that same poet's soul must take flight at the sight of swallows soaring through the evening sky! — Lynn Thomson

Kiana loved birds," Breena told him late one dusky evening. "When she was just a few summers old, she would run beneath them as they flew, her chubby arms stretched out as if tmo take flight alongside them." She sniffed and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "A few weeks before the attack, she told me that she was still going to fly one day. 'I look at the birds, and I see freedom,' she said. 'To soar above the hurt of the world, to be too high for the wars of men to touch you: that is what it means to fly. — Elizabeth Wilson

A small town is automatically a world of pretense. Since everyone knows everyone else's business, it becomes the job of the populace to act as if they don't know what is going on instead of its being their job to try to find out. — Jeanine Basinger

The industrial eater is, in fact, one who does not know that eating is an agricultural act, who no longer knows or imagines the connections between eating and the land, and who is therefore necessarily passive and uncritical - in short, a victim. When food, in the minds of eaters, is no longer associated with farming and with the land, then the eaters are suffering a kind of cultural amnesia that is misleading and dangerous. — Wendell Berry

When you least expect it, you run in to an old friend from school, or the neighbour's cat, not Mary the Virgin Mother of God. — Margot McCuaig

Never before have people been so infantalized, made so dependant on the machine for everything; as the earth rapidly approaches its extinction due to technology, our souls are shrunk and flattened by its pervasive rule. Any sense of wholeness and freedom can only return by the undoing of the massive division of labour at the heart of technological progress. This is the liberatory project in all its depth. — John Zerzan

As the eclipse progresses, a confusion of chattering birds sweeps low in search of dusk and their shadows skip over the water's surface and it makes perfect sense that these small creatures should be so moved by events beyond their reckoning. — John Pipkin