Rob Natiuk > Rob's Quotes

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  • #1
    Catherynne M. Valente
    “And if they thought her aimless, if they thought her a bit mad, let them. It meant they left her alone. Marya was not aimless, anyway. She was thinking.”
    Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

  • #2
    Elizabeth Goudge
    “In a world where thrushes sing and willow trees are golden in the spring, boredom should have been included among the seven deadly sins.”
    Elizabeth Goudge, The Rosemary Tree

  • #3
    Mehmet Murat ildan
    “Wherever there are birds, there is hope.”
    Mehmet Murat ildan
    tags: birds

  • #4
    Jarod Kintz
    “When the silent flamingo dances pink with desire, I’ll be there, sipping on owl stares and kitten curls.”
    Jarod Kintz, Whenever You're Gone, I'm Here For You

  • #5
    C. JoyBell C.
    “As women, we are always taught never to let a man know of our affections towards him, lest he laugh, run away, or think that we are psycho. But what if that's not true? Have you ever stopped to think that? What if it's like there's a beautiful little bird in our hearts and we're too afraid to let anyone see it in there? What's wrong with letting anyone know that there's a bird in your chest? Maybe there are lots of wrong ones, but maybe there's one that's just for you— the one who won't laugh or run away when he sees that little bird. After all, it’s just a pretty bird!”
    C. JoyBell C.

  • #6
    K. Hari Kumar
    “There shall come a day when Birds shall be free... :) and humans will see...”
    K. Hari Kumar

  • #7
    Sylvia Plath
    “If you dissect a bird / to diagram the tongue, / you'll cut the chord / articulating song.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems

  • #8
    “In Our Woods, Sometimes a Rare Music

    Every spring
    I hear the thrush singing
    in the glowing woods
    he is only passing through.
    His voice is deep,
    then he lifts it until it seems
    to fall from the sky.
    I am thrilled.
    I am grateful.

    Then, by the end of morning,
    he's gone, nothing but silence
    out of the tree
    where he rested for a night.
    And this I find acceptable.
    Not enough is a poor life.
    But too much is, well, too much.
    Imagine Verdi or Mahler
    every day, all day.
    It would exhaust anyone.”
    Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings: Poems

  • #9
    Israelmore Ayivor
    “Birds do not attend flight schools; Rivers do not attend flowing colleges; Fishes do not attend swimming conferences; Trees do not attend fruit bearing seminars... There is something that you can do automatically that someone may not do... Find it and do it! There is something someone may do automatically that you may not do; leave it for him to it!”
    Israelmore Ayivor

  • #10
    Katherine Catmull
    “She wasn't a cruel Bird. But her heart ached so badly for these sad, broken birds that, just as the Puppeteer had planned, she had begun to hate them. She hated them for making her feel so wretched, when she should be happiest. That happens sometimes.”
    Katherine Catmull, Summer and Bird

  • #11
    Scott Westerfeld
    “Hoverboarding looks so fun, like being a bird. But actually doing it is hard work."

    Shay shrugged. "Being a bird's probably hard work too. Flapping your wings all day, you know?”
    Scott Westerfeld, Uglies
    tags: birds

  • #12
    Colin Thiele
    “A magpie can be happy or sad: sometimes so happy that he sits on a high, high gum tree and rolls the sunrise around in his throat like beads of pink sunlight; and sometimes so sad that you would expect the tears to drip off his beak.
    This magpie was like that.”
    Colin Thiele, Magpie Island

  • #13
    Katherine Catmull
    “The bird music sank into her, like a song you used to know but forgot long ago. You hear a piano play it some day, and for a minute you feel a happy pain, but you don't know why. Bird felt like that.”
    Katherine Catmull, Summer and Bird

  • #14
    Anthony Liccione
    “So many birds sitting around, on a dead wire, a bare branch, a cold ground, a drifting seashore; never realizing the glory in their wings and where it can take them, nor the envy as we look on them.”
    Anthony Liccione

  • #15
    Mehmet Murat ildan
    “Feed the birds in winter; in return, they will feed your soul with the look of gratitude!”
    Mehmet Murat ildan
    tags: birds

  • #16
    Katherine Catmull
    “In her dance, she controlled the bright paper birds with invisible wires and threads. She played the human: heavy, tied to earth. Her dances weren't pretty or delightful, but they were magical, [...] They called her a dancer and a puppeteer and an artist. They might have called her a witch, and not the good kind either.”
    Katherine Catmull, Summer and Bird

  • #17
    Mehmet Murat ildan
    “Birds teach us something very important: To whatever height you rise, you will finally come down to the ground!”
    Mehmet Murat ildan
    tags: birds

  • #18
    René Char
    “LONG LIVE...

    This country is but a wish of the spirit, a counter-sepulcher.

    In my country, tender proofs of spring and badly dressed birds are preferred to far-off goals.

    Truth waits for dawn beside a candle. Window glass is neglected. To the watchful, what does it matter?

    In my country, we don't question a man deeply moved.

    There is no malignant shadow on the capsized boat.

    A cool hello is unknown in my country.

    We borrow only what can be returned increased.

    There are leaves, many leaves, on the trees in my country. The branches are free to bear no fruits.

    We don't believe in the good faith of the victor.

    In my country, we say thank you.”
    René Char, The Dawn Breakers: Les Matinaux

  • #19
    Jon Young
    “If we learn to read the birds-and their behaviors and vocalizations-through them, we can read the world at large... if we replace collision with connection, learn to read these details, feel at home, relax, and are respectful--ultimately the birds will yield to us the first rite of passage: a close encounter with an animal otherwise wary of our presence.”
    Jon Young, What the Robin Knows: How Birds Reveal the Secrets of the Natural World

  • #20
    Aesop
    “The haft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagles own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction.”
    Aesop

  • #21
    “When a group of people sing together, we make up a chorus. When birds do, it's more like a whole symphony orchestra.”
    Laura Erickson, The Bird Watching Answer Book: Everything You Need to Know to Enjoy Birds in Your Backyard and Beyond

  • #22
    Ivan Klíma
    “يمضي الإنسان عبر الطبيعة متلمساً أملاً ومنتظراً معجزة، ينتظر راهباً أو حاجاً أو بوذا أو نبياً أو طائرا متكلماً حتى ليخبره إن كانت لديه روح لا ينقطع وجودها حتى مع الموت، ليخبره عن مادة تلك الروح، وليخبره عما فوق الإنسان، أي نظام، أي مخلوق أو كائن وفي أي انفجار عظيم كان أصله، وأين يتجه. يمضي الإنسان عبر الطبيعة منتظراً لقاءً، أو إشارة على الأقل، دون أن يعرف طبيعة هذا اللقاء أو تلك الإشارة”
    Ivan Klíma, Love and Garbage

  • #23
    George Saunders
    “Night was falling. Birds were singing. Birds were, it occurred to me to say, enacting a frantic celebration of day's end. They were manifesting as the earth's bright-colored nerve endings, the sun's descent urging them into activity, filling them individually with life nectar, the life nectar then being passed into the world, out of each beak, in the form of that bird's distinctive song, which was, in turn, an accident of beak shape, throat shape, breast configuration, brain chemistry: some birds blessed in voice, others cursed; some squeaking, others rapturous.”
    George Saunders

  • #24
    “when that small Siberian bird fell out of the sky over Gray's River, not once but twice, he brought with him the sweetness of chance in any place, the certainty of wonder in all places. And if that's not grace, I don't know what it.”
    Robert Michael Pyle, Sky Time in Gray's River: Living for Keeps in a Forgotten Place

  • #25
    Vigen Guroian
    “I think if we all gardened more, they and all of the other birds that fly in the air above and light in my garden below would be better off. I know that God values them no less than I do. So when I plant in spring I also hope to taste of God in fruit of summer sun and sight of feathered friends.”
    Vigen Guroian, Inheriting Paradise: Meditations on Gardening

  • #26
    David  Mitchell
    “Birdsong foamed in the hour-before-dawn garden.”
    David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

  • #27
    Susan Hubbard
    “She especially liked my bedside lamp, which had a five-sided porcelain shade. Unlit, the shade seemed like bumpy ivory. Lit, each panel came to life with the image of a bird: a blue jay, a cardinal, wrens, an oriole, and a dove. Kathleen turned it off and on again, several times. "How does it do that?"

    "The panels are called lithophanes." I knew because I'd asked my father about the lamp, years ago. "The porcelain is carved and painted. You can see it if you look inside the shade."

    "No," she said. "It's magic. I don't want to know how it's done.”
    Susan Hubbard, The Society of S

  • #28
    Steven Herrick
    “As I stood on the lonely backroad, I'm sure I heard birds, kookaburras, laughing ...”
    Steven Herrick

  • #29
    “قال لي إنه نشأ بقرية قرب جبل هناك، يسمونه جبل الطير، لأن طيوراً تأتي في كل عام، وتحط عنده، فتملأه الاجواء، ثم ترحل فجأة، بعدما يضحي طير بنفسه، بأن يدخل رأسه، في كوة بسفح الجبل، فيتلقف رأسه من داخلها شيء مجهول، فلا يفلته حتى يجف جسده، ويسقط ريشه، فتكون تلك اشارة لبقية الطير، كي يغطسوا في النيل، ويرحلوا في الليل”
    يوسف زيدان - عزازيل

  • #30
    Carol Birch
    “Mr. Jamrach led me through the lobby and into the menagerie. The first was a parrot room, a fearsome screaming place of mad round eyes, crimson breasts that beat against bars, wings that flapped against their neighbours, blood red, royal blue, gypsy yellow, grass green. The birds were crammed along perches. Macaws hung upside down here and there, batting their white eyes, and small green parrots flittered above our heads in drifts. A hot of cockatoos looked down from on high over the shrill madness, high crested, creamy breasted. The screeching was like laughter in hell.”
    Carol Birch, Jamrach's Menagerie



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