Swallow Bird Quotes & Sayings

Sometimes I feel a strange exhilaration up here which seems to come from something beyond the mere stimulus of flying. It is a feeling of belonging to the sky, of owning and being owned - if only for a moment - by the air I breathe. It is akin to the well known claim of the swallow: each bird staking out his personal bug-strewn slice of heaven, his inviolate property of the blue. — Guy Murchie

like the way a bird can sometimes swallow the horizon whole. — Matthew Baker

I want to hear a million robins making a frightful racket. I sort of like birds." "All women are birds," he ventured. "What kind am I?" - quick and eager. "A swallow, I think, and sometimes a bird of paradise. Most girls are sparrows, of course - see that row of nurse-maids over there? They're sparrows - or are they magpies? And of course you've met canary girls - and robin girls." "And swan girls and parrot girls. All grown women are hawks, I think, or owls." "What am I - a buzzard?" She laughed and shook her head. "Oh, no, you're not a bird at all, do you think? You're a Russian wolfhound." Anthony remembered that they were white and always looked unnaturally hungry. But then they were usually photographed with dukes and princesses, so he was properly flattered. "Dick's — F Scott Fitzgerald

As far as the persona, I'm true to myself. Not because I'm arrogant, but I'm true to myself because I believe that you have to stand for something. When you start sacrificing that, even if it's just a line in a song or something you say on the mic at a show, or the way you treat someone when you see them out in public, that all reflects on who you are. — Cody Johnson

It's surely summer. for there's a swallow: Come one swallow, his mate will follow, The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken. — Christina Rossetti

I don't have a nanny or a housekeeper, and I only have a cleaner for one hour each week. I finish work and go home. I cook the dinner. I run into Tesco and do the housework in the evening. — Victoria Beckham

Out of my deeper heart a bird rose and flew skywards.
Higher and higher did it rise, yet larger and larger did it grow.
At first it was but like a swallow, then a lark, then an eagle, then as vast as a spring cloud, and then it filled the starry heavens.
Out of my heart a bird flew skywards. And it waxed larger as it flew. Yet it left not my heart. — Khalil Gibran

The swallow's wings popped open, but they flapped awkwardly at the sides of its body like wild oars. And then, as the bird fell with skittering wings, it gave one solid thrum. This slowed its descent, momentarily. It gave another thrum, and another, and then, as if its body remembered what it was supposed to do, the bird began to beat its wings rhythmically. The muscle memory was still within it. It was still losing ground, but it was flapping at least. — Bridget Asher

Loss invites reflection and reformulating and a change of strategies. Loss hurts and bleeds and aches. Loss is always ready to call out your name in the night. Loss follows you home and taunts you at the breakfast table, follows you to work in the morning. You have to make accommodations and broker deals to soften the rabbit punches that loss brings to your daily life. You have to take the word "loser" and add it to your resume and walk around with it on your name tag as it hand-feeds you your own shit in dosages too large for even great beasts to swallow. The word "loser" follows you, bird-dogs you, sniffs you out of whatever fields you hide in because you have to face things clearly and you cannot turn away from what is true. — Pat Conroy

As to who among us is a ghost and who not I have nothing to say: it is a question we can only stare at in silence, like a bird before a snake, hoping it will not swallow us. — J.M. Coetzee

Excuse me," Helen interrupted. "Did you say sewage tunnels?"
Darius grinned. "That I did, Princess. — Michelle Zink

You can't legislate morality. — Jesse Ventura

He spoke about cognition."
"Is that all you know? Don't you remember anything?"
"I remember the verses he interpreted."
"Whose verses?"
"I don't know."
"Let me hear."
"Ahriman knows not
The secret of God's unity.
Ask Asaf, he knows.
Can a sparrow swallow the mouthful of the Anka-bird?
'Can a single jug take in
The waters of a great sea?'"
"Those are the verses of Ibn Arabi.They say that the perception of God's wisdom is possible only for the chosen, only for a few."
"And what remains for us?"
"To comprehend what we can. If a sparrow cannot swallow the mouthful of the Anka-bird, it will still eat as much as it can. You cannot scoop up the whole sea with a jug, but whatever you scoop up is also the sea. — Mesa Selimovic

All the souls to explore! - It's not so necessary to love, really, as it is to settle something deep with all of those who really matter. Love and hate are the same things, differently sifted through personal ... pride, or what have you ... personal pride or even just personal-ness. — Jack Kerouac

Our aim is to appeal to reason. ... Prayer is not one of our remedies; it depends on what one is praying for. We consider prayer nothing more than a fervent wish; consequently the merit and worth of a prayer depend upon what the fervent wish is. — Carter G. Woodson

Every bird which flies has the thread of the infinite in its claw. Germination includes the hatching of a meteor and the tap of a swallow's bill breaking the egg, and it leads forward the birth of an earth-worm and the advent of Socrates. — Victor Hugo

But, as old Swedish legends say, Of all the birds upon that day, The swallow felt the deepest grief, And longed to give her Lord relief, And chirped when any near would come. Hugswala swala swal honom! Meaning, as they who tell it deem, Oh, cool, oh, cool and comfort Him! — Charles Godfrey Leland

They tried hard to take comfort from the fact that the boys hadn't died in vain: they had been part of a magnificent struggle for right. And there were moments where they could believe that and swallow down the angry, desperate screech that wanted to scrape its way out of their gullets like out of a mother bird. — M.L. Stedman