Birdsong Quotes

On this page you will find all the quotes on the topic "Birdsong". There are currently 49 quotes in our collection about Birdsong. Discover the TOP 10 sayings about Birdsong!
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  • Did you not look upon the world this morning and imagine it as the boy might see it? And did you not recognize the mist and the dew and the birdsong as elements not of a place or a time but of a spirit? And did you not envy the boy his spirit? For you know there can be no power over him who freely gives what another would take. Such a one has the capacity to love. Freely, naively, to say I do.

    Jamie O'Neill (2002). “At Swim, Two Boys: A Novel”, p.144, Simon and Schuster
  • Bring awareness to the many subtle sounds of nature - The rustling of leaves in the wind, Raindrops falling, The humming of an insect, The first birdsong at dawn.

    Fall   Wind   Firsts  
    Eckhart Tolle (2010). “Stillness Speaks”, p.79, New World Library
  • Making 'Birdsong,' on the one hand you have how prestigious it is and the reputation of the book, which is something that's an extraordinary piece of work. Sebastian Faulkes is a genius. So you feel that responsibility when you're portraying that character that he's imagined and millions of readers have pictured.

  • It was a heavenly summer, the summer in which France fell and the British Expeditionary Force was evacuated from Dunkirk. Leaves were never such an intense and iridescent green; sunlight glinted on flower-studded meadows as the Germans encircled the Maginot Line and overran not only France but Belgium and Holland. Birdsong filled the air in the lull between bursts of gunfire and accompanied the fleeing refugees who blocked the roads. It was as though the weather was preparing a glorious requiem for the death of Europe.

    Summer   Flower   Air  
    "A Song for Summer".
  • There's a story... a legend, about a bird that sings just once in its life. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree... and never rests until it's found one. And then it sings... more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. And singing, it impales itself on the longest, sharpest thorn. But, as it dies, it rises above its own agony, to outsing the lark and the nightingale. The thorn bird pays its life for just one song, but the whole world stills to listen, and God in his heaven smiles.

    Smile   God   Song  
    "Fictional character: Ralph de Bricassart". "There are no ambitions noble", www.imdb.com. 1983.
  • People who record birdsong generally do it very early-before six o'clock-if they can. Soon after that, the invasion of distant noise in most woodland becomes too constant and too loud.

    People   Bird   Records  
    Richard Adams (2014). “Watership Down”, p.112, Oneworld Publications
  • I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.

    Love   Hope   Bird  
    Emily Dickinson (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Emily Dickinson (Illustrated)”, p.2435, Delphi Classics
  • My sudden, unforeseen capitulation had knocked me backward, and I had nothing to hold on to. My internal weather was eerily calm, as if in a tornado's aftermath, birdsong, sunshine, supersaturated colors, wreckage all around, and myself, dazed and limping.

  • True solitude is a din of birdsong, seething leaves, whirling colors, or a clamor of tracks in the snow.

    Color   Snow   Track  
    Edward Hoagland (1992). “Balancing acts: essays”
  • Ask the world to reveal its quietude- not the silence of machines when they are still, but the true quiet by which birdsongs, trees, bellworts, snails, clouds, storms become what they are, and are nothing else.

    Clouds   Silence   Tree  
    Wendell Berry (2013). “This Day: New and Collected Sabbath Poems 1979 - 2012”, p.219, Counterpoint
  • I remember as a child, my grandmother read to me Silent Spring. It was incomprehensible to me that there could be a world without birdsong.

    Interview with David Kupfer, progressive.org. February 1, 2005.
  • Brute force crushes many plants. Yet the plants rise again. The Pyramids will not last a moment compared with the daisy. And before Buddha or Jesus spoke the nightingale sang, and long after the words of Jesus and Buddha are gone into oblivion the nightingale still will sing. Because it is neither preaching nor commanding nor urging. It is just singing. And in the beginning it was not a Word, but a chirrup.

    Crush   Time   Jesus  
    D. H. Lawrence, Simonetta de Filippis (2002). “Sketches of Etruscan Places and Other Italian Essays”, p.36, Cambridge University Press
  • And then God gave me insight: this was winter. It would end, in time, but not by my own doing. My responsibility was simply to know the season, and match my actions and inactions to it. It was to learn the slow hard discipline of waiting. It was my season to believe in spite of-to believe in the absence of evidence or emotion, when there's nothing, no bud, no color, no light, no birdsong, to validate belief. It was my time to walk without sight.

  • Nowadays, people are so jeezled up. If they took some chamomile tea and spent more time rocking on the porch in the evening listening to the liquid song of the hermit thrush, they might enjoy life more.

  • God was something I did not understand the way kids who went to church did. They said God was a man in the sky with white hair and a beard like Santa. This seemed strange to me. When I thought of God, I imagined only mist over the pond, a sliver of moon in a dark sky, scatterings of stars, birdsong.

    Stars   Kids   Dark  
  • As long as I live, I'll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I'll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I'll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can".

    Nature   Heart   Garden  
    John Muir (1999). “To Yosemite and Beyond: Writings from the Years 1863-1875”
  • Use what talents you possess; the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.

  • And now everything has changed once again. The air of the Close each evening is full of bird song - I've never really noticed it before. Full of birdsong and summer perfumes, full of strange glimpses and intimations just out of the corner of my eye, of longings and sadness and undefined hopes.It has a name, this sweet disturbance. Its name is Lamorna.

    Summer   Song   Sweet  
  • Roy Blount is so funny, and he sounds like he's just talking, and the next thing you know he has tossed off an essay as elegant and intricately structured as a birdsong. His ear for American speech is better than anybody's.

    Talking   Sound   Ears  
  • The early morning hour should be dedicated to praise: do not the birds set us the example?

    Morning   Bird   Example  
    Charles Spurgeon (1999). “The Joy in Praising God”, p.20, Whitaker House
  • Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all.

  • He found that he had this sudden desperate longing for the fuming, smoky streets of Ankh-Morpork, which was always at its best in the spring, when the gummy sheen on the turbid waters of the Ankh River had a special iridescence and the eaves were full of birdsong, or at least birds coughing rhythmically

    Spring   Rivers   Water  
    Terry Pratchett (2009). “The Light Fantastic: (Discworld Novel 2)”, p.91, Random House
  • The point of the dragonfly's terrible lip, the giant water bug, birdsong, or the beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows,is not that it all fits together like clockwork--for it doesn'tbut that it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free, finged tangle. Freedom is the world's water and weather, the world's nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: and the creator loves pizzazz.

  • A birdsong can even, for a moment, make the whole world into a sky within us, because we feel that the bird does not distinguish between its heart and the world's.

    Heart   Sky   Bird  
  • I woke early like a condemned man to the naivety of birdsong.

    Men   Naivety   Birdsong  
  • Birdsong brings relief to my longing. I am just as ecstatic as they are, but with nothing to say.

    Rumi (2014). “'Another city'. a selectionf of poems from the Persian”, p.25, Lulu.com
  • Silent Summer - a never-ending heat wave, devoid of birdsong, insect hum, and all the weird and wonderful living noises that subconsciously keep us company.

    Summer   Noise   Heat  
  • In time they sank and decayed, and nothing is left of them except an occasional impression in stones, in stones now found in deserts and on high mountain peaks. Birdless forests block the sun in uninhabited lands. Insects swirl in the air. And then, in a majestic, bloodthirsty, and mighty heave, the spinal columns of the vertebrates rise as monstrous lizards and fabulous creatures; dragons flinging their fearful bellows up to a steaming sky... Slowly they become birds, birds as light as undreamt dreams. The searing roars become birdsong, whimpering flutes on warm nights.

    Dream   Block   Night  
  • I like to sit on the front porch of an old cabin I built in the woods and just listen to the birds; I like to fish in the pond and I always throw the fish back.

    Bird   Cabins   Ponds  
  • I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine.

    Reflection   Soul   Void  
    FaceBook post by Sebastian Faulks from Jan 20, 2015
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