Quotes & Sayings About Rooks
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Top Rooks Quotes

The rooks cawed, and blither birds sang; but nothing was so merry or so musical as my own rejoicing heart. — Charlotte Bronte

It feels a little silly to annotate a game in which I didn't make a single move on my own, just following my preparation all the way. [ ... ] A pretty finale. I was obviously hoping for the beauty prize sacrificing both my rooks and all, but OK, Im [sic] afraid requirements are one makes a move of his own for that it seems. Something I could avoid doing in the last five rounds in Dresden. Silly game, this chess. — Jan Gustafsson

As the elms bent to one another, like giants who were whispering secrets, and after a few seconds of such repose fell into a violent flurry, tossing their wild arms about, as if their late confidences were really too wicked for their peace of mind, some weather-beaten, ragged old rooks' nests, burdening their higher branches, swung like wrecks upon a stormy sea. — Charles Dickens

Then there's no point in our being logical, is there?" said Jonathan...
"What do you mean?" said Lewis and Mrs. Zimmerman at the same time.
"I mean," he said patiently, "that we're no good at that sort of game. Our game is wild swoops, sudden inexplicable discoveries, cloudy thinking. Knights' jumps instead of files of rooks plowing across the board. So we'd better play our way if we expect to win. — John Bellairs

Run home and don't come back. You aren't going to survive around here."
Paris felt his spine straighten. "I'm not dead yet," he said.
"Because I helped you," said the boy. "But I'm not planning to follow you around the city. And I'd rather not trip over your dead body."
"Who are you?" Paris demanded.
The boy grinned, all white teeth and sudden glee. "Didn't you hear? I'm the King of Cats."
"Stop being so mysterious, Vai," one of his own men called over his shoulder.
"Also known as Vai the Bloody, Vai the Terrible, Vai the Bloody Terrible, and more importantly, Vai dalr-Ahodin, captain of the Rooks."
"And King of Cats," said Paris, who still had no idea what that meant — Rosamund Hodge

The retreat of a minor piece to the back rank, where it cuts the lines of communication between the rooks, is permissable only in exceptional cases. — Alexander Alekhine

Childhood is supposed to be a radiant springtime but mine seems to have been always autumn, the gales seething in the big beeches behind this old gate-lodge, as they're doing right now, and the rooks above them wheeling haphazard, like scraps of char from a bonfire, and a custard-coloured gleam having its last go low down in the western sky. — John Banville

Through the window I can see Rooks above the cherry-tree, Sparrows in the violet bed, Bramble-bush and bumble-bee, And old red bracken smoulders still Among boulders on the hill, Far too bright to seem quite dead. But old Death, who can't forget, Waits his time and watches yet, Waits and watches by the door. — Robert Graves

The wild swan hurries hight and noises loud
With white neck peering to the evening clowd.
The weary rooks to distant woods are gone.
With lengths of tail the magpie winnows on
To neighbouring tree, and leaves the distant crow
While small birds nestle in the edge below. — John Clare

it, for numbers of Rooks and starlings — Aesop

I have also heard that GM Oscar Panno said that -whenever you have to make a rook move and both rooks are available for said move- you should evaluate which rook to move and, once you have made up your mind ... MOVE THE OTHER ONE!!! — Oscar Panno

The mellow bells, soaring and singing in tower and steeple, told of time's flight through an eternity of peace; and Great Tom, tolling his nightly hundred-and-one, called home only the rooks from off Christ Church Meadow. — Dorothy L. Sayers

February. Get ink, shed tears. Write of it, sob your heart out, sing, While torrential slush that roars Burns in the blackness of the spring. Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas, Race through the noice of bells and wheels To where the ink and all you grieving Are muffled when the rainshower falls. To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal, A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees, Fall down into the puddles, hurl Dry sadness deep into the eyes. Below, the wet black earth shows through, With sudden cries the wind is pitted, The more haphazard, the more true The poetry that sobs its heart out. — Boris Pasternak

As to people saying a few idle words about us, we must not mind that, any more than the old church steeple minds the rooks cawing about it. — George Eliot

Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm tops, delicate as flower of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass. — Edward Thomas

The bright, frosty day declined as they walked and spoke together. The sun dipped in the river far behind them, and the old city lay red before them, as their walk drew to a close. The moaning water cast its seaweed duskily at their feet, when they turned to leave its margin; and the rooks hovered above them with hoarse cries, darker splashes in the darkening air. — Charles Dickens

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

Through portico of my elegant house you stalk
With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit
And the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the net
Of all decorum which holds the whirlwind back.
Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croak
Above the appalling ruin; in bleak light
Of your stormy eye, magic takes flight
Like a daunted witch,
quitting castle when real days break.
Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock;
While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit
Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot,
Rooted to your black look, the play turned tragic:
Which such blight wrought on our bankrupt estate,
What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?
"Conversation Among the Ruins — Sylvia Plath

If your opponent has an exposed king it is frequently worth sacrificing a pawn to be able to bring your rooks into the game, especially if your opponent's rooks are languishing in the corner. Kasparov has made a career out of such sacrifices. — Neil McDonald

A clamor of rooks exploded through the trees, nearly drowning out the woman's scream. — Keith W. Willis

The Queen is usually reckoned equal, in average situations, to two Rooks and a Pawn, but towards the end of a game she is hardly so valuable as two Rooks. — Howard Staunton

The daylight has nothing to show me, since you are not here, and I don't like to see the rooks and starlings in the fields, because I grieve and grieve to miss you who used to see them with me. I long for only one thing in heaven or earth or under the earth, to meet you my own dear! Come to me - come to me, and save me from what threatens me! - Your faithful heartbroken — Thomas Hardy

Who's the boy who thinks he can mess with my men?" he demanded.
"Nobody," said the boy. "Just the King of Cats."
The words made the gang draw up short; obviously the title meant something to them, though Paris had never heard it before.
"It's a very simple situation," the boy went on. "You can join the Rooks and follow my orders without question. Or you can immediately decide that your territory starts east of here. Screaming as you run is optional."
Paris suspected that it would be a good time for him to scream and run, but the situation had a sort of awful fascination. The boy was definitely, absolutely mad, and they were both going to be pounded to death, and he couldn't look away.
"Or you can fight me over it," said the boy. "Care to wager your gang on a duel?"
The leader hesitated a moment; then he sneered, "So long as you fight fair."
"Nobody gets anything but what he earns from me — Rosamund Hodge

And so without our primordial attachments to others, what would we be?
Evidently, we would be the players of a game, one that resembled a giant chess match, with our fellow human beings as the rooks, the knights, and the pawns. For this is the essence of sociopathic behavior, and desire. — Martha Stout

If once a man delays castling and his king remains in the center, files will open up against him, bishops sweep the board, rooks will dominate the seventh rank, and pawns turn into queens. — Irving Chernev

A Rook is of the value of five Pawns and a fraction, and may be exchanged for a minor Piece and two Pawns. Two Rooks may be exchanged for three minor Pieces. — Howard Staunton

Be informed, also, that this good and savoury Parish is the home of Hectors, Trapanners, Biters who all go under the general appelation of Rooks. Here are all the Jilts, Cracks, Prostitutes, Night-walkers, Whores, Linnen-lifters, who are like so many Jakes, Privies, Houses of Office, Ordures, Excrements, Easments and piles of Sir-reverence: the whores of Ratcliffe High-way smell of Tarpaulin and stinking Cod from their continuall Traffick with seamen's Breeches. There are other such wretched Objects about these ruined Lanes, all of them lamentable Instances of Vengeance. And it is not strange (as some think) how they will haunt the same Districts and will not leave off their Crimes until they are apprehended, for these Streets are their Theatre. Theft, Whoredom and Homicide peep out of the very Windows of their Souls; Lying, Perjury, Fraud, Impudence and Misery are stamped upon their very Countenances as now they walk within the Shaddowe of my Church. — Peter Ackroyd

Unlike most great talkers, the rooks are good workers, too. — Flora Thompson

WEATHERS
This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I;
When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,
And nestlings fly;
And the little brown nightingale bills his best,
And they sit outside at 'The Traveller's Rest,'
And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest,
And citizens dream of the south and west,
And so do I.
This is the weather the shepherd shuns,
And so do I;
When beeches drip in browns and duns,
And thresh and ply;
And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe,
And meadow rivulets overflow,
And drops on gate bars hang in a row,
And rooks in families homeward go,
And so do I. — Thomas Hardy

The rooks were sailing about the cathedral towers; and the towers themselves, overlooking many a long unaltered mile of the rich country and its pleasant streams, were cutting the bright morning air as if there were no such thing as change on earth. Yet the bells, when they sounded told me sorrowfully of change in everything; told me of their own age, and my pretty Dora's youth; and of the many, never old, who had lived and loved and died, while the reverberations of the bells had hummed through the rusty armour of the Black Prince hanging up within, and, motes upon the deep of Time, had lost themselves in air, as circles do in water. — Charles Dickens

Knights are cavalry, bishops are archers, rooks are cannons and queens are wizards. — Jacob Aagaard

Here's a list of things an intermediate player will have in his chess toolbox: Checkmate patterns involving the Queen, Rooks, Knights and Bishops in combination with each other. King and Queen checkmate. King and Rook checkmate. King and pawn (promotion), then King and Queen checkmate. Pins, skewers, and forks. Understands the principles of the opening. Knows a solid opening for white, and can play a sound opening for black against both e4 and d4 openings. Understands the idea of winning the exchange, and knows what to do after getting up in material. — Ronn Munsterman

Rooks were cawing somewhere, and bells were ringing, and from the oxpens the steady beat of a gas engine announced the ascent of the evening Royal Mail zeppelin for London. — Philip Pullman

There shall I recover beauty, and impose order upon my raked, my dishevelled soul? But what can one make in loneliness? Alone I should stand on the empty grass and say, Rooks fly — Virginia Woolf

I've been in prison, you see. Only three weeks, and only on remand,but when you've had to play chess twice a day with a monosyllabic West Ham supporter, who has 'HATE' tattooed on one hand, and 'HATE' on the other - using a set missing six pawns, all the rooks and two of the bishops - you find yourself cherishing little things in life. Like not being in prison. — Hugh Laurie

I'm not entirely certain who arranged to have the lighting in the Rooks' offices and quarters hooked up to the Panic Lines, but it has taught me to flinch violently when a lightbulb ceases to work. — Daniel O'Malley