Blackbirds Quotes

“I don't mind him not talking so much, because you can hear his voice in your heart; the same way you can hear a song in your head even if there isn't a radio playing; the same way you can hear those blackbirds flying when they're not in the sky”
― Adam Rapp, 33 Snowfish

“Vampires are slicker than goose shit on a glass window.”
― Chuck Wendig

“Vampires are slicker than goose shit on a glass window. Suave. Sultry. I'm neither of those things”
― Chuck Wendig

“Sing a song of Tar Ponds City, party full of lies! Four and twenty liars, seventeen hands caught in pies! When the pie was cut, Hugh Briss began to sing! Wasn't that a stonewall rat to set before the Fossil's ding?”
― Beatrice Rose Roberts, Twin Loyalties: From The Chronicles Of Tar Ponds City

“Down at the far end of the lake there’s a marsh that rolls wide and long with a thatch-work thicket of pristine cattails that gently sway in the lightest breeze. And the redwing blackbirds call from it, with their sweet and throaty melody finding its way across the lake’s expanse and listing into the adjacent woods of muscular oaks and graceful maples. And sitting in a boat on the lake’s expanse, I wonder what insanity would prompt me to focus on the fish I can’t catch, and not on the melody that I can.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“The lawn lay like the pristine waiting page
Of a prison report.
Who would write what upon it
I never gave a thought.

A dumb creature, looping at the furnace door
On its demon’s prong,
Was a pen already writing
Wrong is right, right wrong.”
― Ted Hughes, Birthday Letters

“I had an Irish nanny who told me that ravens attract energies, all different types. That’s all magic is. The focus of will and intention applied to possibilities.” She took a deep breath. “So let it fly.” We were silent for a moment, each of us conjuring an unspoken invocation in our heads, tying all the things we wanted to release to those lustrous black feathers. Then I opened the door of the cage. The raven remained frozen, as if it had been in captivity for so long it had forgotten it was wild. Or maybe it felt the weight of being tied with all the hopes and fears of two refugees trying to find their way. I thought for a moment about shaking it out. Instead, in two brave hops it was at the door, a tight fit that left one oily feather trailing behind. Then with only a few large flaps, the bird lifted, spreading its wings, feathers edged like fingers. Its friend joined it almost immediately, and the pair soared in a wide looping circle above the market, and then they were away, out of sight, returned to their natural state.”
― Claire McMillan, Alchemy of a Blackbird

“It was the kind of weather that lowered the spirits, although Teddy's were lifted a little by the sight of the jousting hares and the high, fluty notes of a blackbird answering his own whistle from somewhere unseen.”
― Kate Atkinson, A God in Ruins